


No Place Like Home

by gluupor, moonix



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Alternate Universe - No Exy (All For The Game), Cats, Enemies to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Online Friendships, POV Alternating, Pranks and Practical Jokes, You've Got Mail AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-06-03 12:06:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19463644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gluupor/pseuds/gluupor, https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonix/pseuds/moonix
Summary: With neighbours like these, who needs enemies? Neil and Andrew have been friends for years, but have never met face to face. Josten and Minyard are new neighbours who start off on the wrong foot. Can they turn a prank war into a courtship?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Spoiler alert: when we said we would hypothetically write a collab together... we weren't speaking hypothetically. Enjoy!

The sunlight was butter yellow as it spilled past Neil’s blinds when his alarm cheerfully forced him from sleep. It was the first morning in two weeks that he didn’t wake disoriented, finally used to his new apartment’s setup. Squinting against the light he reached for his phone to shut off the alarm and to check for any new messages. Sure enough, the familiar t was in his notifications bar. 

**sundaeblues sent you a message**

Neil couldn’t help the smile that stole over his face. It wasn’t unusual to wake up to a message from Andrew whose sleep schedule was erratic. He often sent Neil snippets of whatever thoughts he had at 3am when suffering from insomnia. 

He opened his Tumblr app, cursing his older phone for being so slow, and waited for their conversation to load. 

**i’m thinking about a beard** , was the message, sent around 4:30 in the morning. 

Neil shook his head fondly. _like facial hair or are you getting a fake girlfriend?_ he typed back. 

Yawning, he dragged himself upright and out of bed. He scrubbed a hand through his unruly curls and went to the washroom to relieve himself before heading out into the open concept kitchen/living area of his apartment. It was still half boxes and would probably stay that way until Dan came over, looked at him judgmentally and made him unpack under her supervision. 

His phone emitted Tumblr’s bloop notification noise as he switched his coffee machine on, stepping around Sir who was begging for his breakfast. 

**you’re up early**

It was probably only Neil’s guilt that made the words seem accusatory. It wasn’t actually that early but as far as Andrew was aware Neil still lived in Phoenix, where it was currently 5am. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to tell Andrew about his move to Atlanta yet, worried that Andrew might think that he was trying to force them to meet. Or worse, that Andrew wouldn’t want to meet. Neil certainly wasn’t ready to meet face-to-face but he paradoxically didn’t want to hear that Andrew felt the same. 

_new job_ , Neil replied which was technically the truth. He didn’t like lying to Andrew who was probably the person who knew him best in the world, so he avoided it by sidestepping questions and not correcting Andrew’s incorrect assumptions. 

**they’d better be paying you well if they make you get up before the sun**

_it’s fine. what’s this about a beard?_ Neil wrote, quickly changing the subject. 

**facial hair, obviously. i’d never deny my sexuality. besides i’m way too fabulous for anyone to believe i’m straight**

Neil snorted a laugh. He had no idea what Andrew actually looked like but given his deadpan personality he highly doubted he acted stereotypically gay in public. 

_you’re channelling your cousin again. are you growing a beard?_

There was a slight pause before Andrew responded, **it occurs to me that i’ve never kissed anyone with a beard. have/would you?**

_i haven’t_ , replied Neil, squinting in thought. _and i hadn’t ever considered it. maybe, but i feel generally negative about it, i guess?_

**hmmm**

_it’s not a deal breaker_

**good to know**

_is this your way of telling me you’re growing a beard?_ For some reason Neil didn’t think a beard would suit Andrew but he didn’t have any supporting evidence. 

**no** , wrote Andrew, **but shaving every day is tedious especially since i work from home**

_don’t you want to look nice for king?_ Neil sent back, which kicked off a story from Andrew about his cat’s latest exploits. The two of them continued to trade messages as Neil prepared for his day. 

_headed to work now_ , he eventually had to break off their conversation. _i’ll message you later. try to get some sleep today_

**sleep is for the weak**

Neil rolled his eyes and pocketed his phone. He slammed his apartment door on the way out; he hadn’t quite figured out his hated neighbour’s sleep schedule but based on his blaring music he was up late into the night. Hopefully that meant he liked to sleep late in the mornings so Neil was disturbing him. 

He jogged down the stairs, completely bypassing the old, suspect elevator. He’d been in it once, the day after moving when every single muscle in his body was protesting, and it had made alarming noises and smelled like week-old cheese. He hadn’t made the mistake again. 

Twirling his car keys on his finger, he passed through the small tenant parking lot, stumbling to a stop when he caught sight of his car. 

Someone (and he had a very good idea who that _someone_ was) had completely encased his car in saran wrap. Whimpering, he approached his car wondering how long it was going to take him to unwrap it. It was only his second week at his new job; he shouldn’t be showing up late already. 

He felt eyes on the back of his head. He turned slowly, letting his gaze travel up to his second story apartment and the tiny corrugated metal overhang that passed for a balcony. Sure enough, his short, blond neighbour was standing outside on his own balcony, nonchalantly smoking a cigarette and watching him. 

“Minyard,” growled Neil. He pointed at the smug asshole and raised his voice so he could be heard, “This means war.” 

* * *

“I shouldn’t be surprised that you acquired a nemesis less than twenty-four hours after moving here,” Matt said, trying to pick up a piece of sushi with his chopsticks. It fell apart the moment he opened his mouth, half of it landing in the little dish of soy sauce and the other disintegrating all over his plate. 

“He’s not my nemesis,” Neil protested. He was faring only slightly better with the chopsticks, much to Dan’s continued amusement. “He’s just a guy that fell out of the asshole tree and hit every branch on the way down.” 

“Oh, so he’s your soulmate?” Dan said dryly, gesturing with a sushi roll perfectly poised between her chopsticks just to show off. 

“Rude,” Neil huffed. “Besides, he started it.” 

“What are you, five?” Dan rolled her eyes. “Just because he accidentally locked you out—” 

“There was nothing accidental about it! He was pissed because the moving van was blocking the way. He saw us coming with the sofa, looked straight at me, and kicked the door shut. Matt, back me up.” 

Matt nodded along fervently and pointed his chopsticks at Neil, mouth too full of rice to agree verbally. 

“Fine, whatever,” Dan said. “You didn’t have to retaliate though. You could have been the better man and walked away.” 

“I can’t walk away, he lives right next door to me. And he called the cops on us. You know how quickly that can go south.” 

“You broke into your own apartment,” Dan pointed out. “Anyone who spotted you could have called them.” 

“No, it was definitely him,” Neil insisted, giving up and stabbing his chopsticks into his last uncooperative sushi roll, finesse be damned. 

“You know, considering all you needed to break into your second floor apartment was some rope and a cracked window, you are remarkably inept with these things,” Matt grinned, nudging him with his elbow. 

“Whose plate currently looks like a battlefield?” Neil asked pointedly. Matt ignored him and cheerfully turned to Dan to recount the story of Neil breaking into his own apartment. 

“I know, babe, you’ve told me this seven times already,” Dan said, pained. 

“But it was amazing! And scary. But mostly amazing.” 

“Is there anything he does that you _don’t_ think is amazing?” 

“I would draw the line at murder,” Matt said. 

“Would you?” Neil asked, honestly curious for a moment. There was a pause, then Matt’s solemn face crumbled. 

“I’m sure you would have a really good reason…” 

“Oh my god,” Dan muttered. 

She held up her hands in surrender and quickly changed the topic, asking if Neil had made any friends among his new coworkers yet. Neil would have preferred to keep talking about Minyard or his skills at breaking and entering. Even murder would have made for a more entertaining conversation topic. His new coworkers were Real Adults, whereas Neil was an imposter. They were all supremely boring people who only ever talked about mortgages, marriage and children; and besides, Neil had Matt and Dan and Andrew and his cat, and that was plenty for him. 

He and Matt had been roommates in college back in Phoenix. Neil had moved around a lot with his mom when he was younger and it had always just been the two of them against the world, at least until Neil had finally dared to move away from home and pursue a degree. Matt was his first real friend and Dan had followed somewhat naturally as she’d visited Matt whenever she could get time off from her job in Atlanta. Matt had moved there after college to be with her, and Neil, after moping about by himself for another year, finally gave in to their combined wheedling and started looking for a job and an apartment in the area as well. 

His phone buzzed against his thigh and he willed down a smile, already knowing who was messaging him. Dan and Matt were indirectly responsible for him meeting Andrew, though they didn’t know just how much he and Andrew were talking outside of fandom. It was Dan’s copy of the first All For The Court book that Neil had picked up on a rainy Sunday afternoon back in college, bored and slightly curious to see what his best friends were always going on about. When Matt came home several hours later from dropping Dan off at the airport, he found Neil wired on caffeine and deep into the second book, which he’d immediately downloaded after finishing the first. Matt had been the one to recommend Andrew’s fanfics to Neil after listening to Neil complain one too many times about how people on Tumblr were erasing the main character’s asexuality. Neil had devoured every single one within a few nights and had found himself doodling scenes from them in his classes for a week, unable to get them out of his head. In the end he’d snapped a picture of one of his drawings and posted it on his Tumblr, tagging sundaeblues before he could lose his nerve. 

No less than half an hour later, Andrew had messaged him. Their first conversations had been stilted and awkward, but after almost two years of talking more or less every day, Neil felt like he knew Andrew nearly as well as he did Matt and Dan; more so in some aspects, even. 

“Neil, my girlfriend doesn’t want dessert. Share one with me? They have matcha ice-cream, look.” 

Matt made puppy dog eyes at him and Neil sighed. He was pretty full from the sushi, but he did like matcha ice-cream, and it came with a side of fruit. There was always space for fruit in his stomach. 

* * *

By the time he got home, Neil’s phone was buzzing in increasingly shorter intervals. Either Andrew was having some sort of emergency or Kevin was trying to reach him. Kevin had not yet quite grasped the idea that other people had their own lives and responsibilities that didn’t always allow them to drop everything and pay attention to whatever he wanted them to. 

Neil pulled into his building’s parking lot, noting with satisfaction that Minyard’s shiny, black, expensive-looking car was nowhere to be seen. He didn’t seem to leave his apartment a lot, at least not that Neil had noticed, and this gave Neil the chance to park sideways across his and Minyard’s assigned spots which were beside each other. 

He was pleased with himself as he pulled up his parking brake, grinning about getting one over on his jerk neighbour. He also had a list with several more ideas; he’d eventually worn Dan down enough that she came up with some ways he could annoy Minyard. Neil suspected that she only gave in because she was afraid he really was going to resort to murder and providing him with harmless prank ideas was the best way for her to ensure that Matt didn’t end up in prison for aiding and abetting. 

His phone buzzed again just as he locked his car. Pulling it out he found that his assumption had been correct. He had a multitude of Tumblr messages from queentessa, most of them consisting of his name followed by an increasing number of question marks. 

_what, kevin?_ he typed in one-handedly as he attempted to unlock and open the door to his building with the other. He knew that even if he could convey his annoyance over text it would fly over Kevin’s head. 

**where have you been?** Kevin wrote back and Neil could practically hear his demanding tone. He’d never met Kevin face-to-face but Dan and Matt had and they said that his personality was exactly as they’d expected after interacting with him online. 

_out. i don’t actually just wait around my apartment like a powered off robot when you don’t want my attention_

**have you seen this new quiz?** asked Kevin, breezing right past Neil’s comment. 

_what quiz?_ replied Neil as he arrived at his apartment door, slightly out of breath from climbing the stairs. Usually a single flight of stairs wouldn’t affect him but he was feeling particularly stuffed from the sushi. He probably shouldn’t have agreed to share dessert. 

**there’s a what aftc character are you quiz and i think the person who wrote it never actually read the books**

_i’m guessing you didn’t get tessa?_ She was one of three main characters in the series and Kevin had been stanning her since the early days of the fandom which he had founded almost single-handedly. 

**i got sasha, can you believe it?**

_she’s a good character_

**she’s the supportive best friend! does that sound like me?**

_well, no,_ admitted Neil. _but it could be worse, you could be riko_

Kevin didn’t respond right away, probably because his head had exploded in a fit of apoplectic rage. Neil took the reprieve to check his messages from Andrew and ask him how his evening was going. Andrew didn’t respond, likely either sleeping or spending time with his family. 

**you take the quiz. i want to see if it’s faulty for everyone**

Kevin sent a link and Neil went through the quiz, distractedly choosing whatever answer best fit him and, when none of them did, picking randomly. 

“Your mouth runs as fast as your feet, you wouldn’t recognize a flirting attempt if it danced naked in front of you, and you’d do absolutely anything for your found family (even getting kidnapped by the mob)! Congratulations, you’re Zoe!” The final result of the quiz was accompanied by fanart. The portrait was quite impressive, capturing the hopelessness in her eyes. He’d have to find out who drew it and check out their blog. 

_i got zoe_ , he told Kevin, which was hardly surprising. He always got Zoe. She was the reason he’d initially been so drawn to the series. Finding a main character who was on the asexuality spectrum was both rare and cathartic. She wasn’t his favourite character—that was Lucy, who had overcome a shitload of trauma to remake herself into a fierce, protective person—but she was the one he most identified with. 

Kevin launched into a tirade about the importance of understanding the characters completely before attempting to make quizzes. Neil periodically responded in ways that were sure to egg him on while he set himself up in front of his television and turned on a baseball game, kicking his feet up on the cardboard box that was currently serving as his coffee table. Dinner sat heavily in his stomach and he could feel sleep pulling at him; he was exhausted from his full week of work and all the names and procedures and particulars he’d had to learn. He had originally wanted to wait up until Andrew got back to him but he was on the verge of sleeping on the couch, which he had done before and was murder on his back. 

He messaged Kevin to say goodnight and dragged himself through his nightly ablutions and into the short shorts and threadbare white t-shirt that functioned as pyjamas. He climbed into bed and was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. 

A couple hours later he was jolted from sleep by the sound of a car door slamming followed by loud swearing. He grinned to himself at Minyard’s anger and rolled over, thoughts of all the other pranks he was going to pull swimming in his head. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're really happy that all of you seem as excited about reading this collab as we were writing it! Thank you all for your heartwarming comments and keysmashes!!

There was a spider in Andrew’s mailbox.

It was big, judging from the hairy leg Andrew had glimpsed when he’d reached in. Not big enough to be dangerous—probably. Certainly not big enough to be scary. Andrew had just been startled, that was all. He wasn’t overly fond of spiders after one particularly bad foster house where he’d had to sleep in the attic and routinely found spiders and other critters of various sizes between his bed sheets and clothes, even the pages of his school books. There was no reason he couldn’t just reach back in and grab his mail—the spider had probably retreated to the furthest corner of the mailbox in fright anyway.

But then again, he didn’t have to get his mail right now. He could do it when he came back from his meeting with Wymack. Or, hell, even tomorrow. It wasn’t like there was anything important in there, like bills he really had to pay and the prints he’d ordered for Renee’s birthday on Friday, which he still needed to wrap up.

He huffed and tapped a cigarette from his pack just for something to do. If he waited any longer he would be late for his meeting with Wymack—which Wymack was used to, but being late for the meeting also meant that Andrew would be late _back_ from the meeting, and his afternoon schedule was packed full with naps and watching old Buffy episodes.

“Got a problem?”

Andrew stiffened at the voice. It had only been three weeks since Josten had moved in next door, but already Andrew would have been able to pick his smug, annoying voice out of any line-up.

“I do now,” Andrew muttered, dropping his cigarette. He imagined the glowing end was Josten’s face and stamped it out with grim satisfaction.

“Did you know that Australia has over two thousand species of spiders?” Josten asked casually as he emptied out his mailbox, which was, unfortunately, right next to Andrew’s. “Less than fifty of them are actually harmful to humans though. Comforting, isn’t it?”

Andrew ground his teeth and returned to glaring at his compromised mailbox. Of course Josten was responsible for this. If there was anyone in the world who would zero in on Andrew’s dislike of spiders after less than a month of barely knowing him, it was Josten. He must have spotted Renee taking the spider outside that had invaded Andrew’s bathroom last week (because _squashing it is cruel, Andrew_ ) and incorrectly assumed that Andrew was afraid of them. Which he was not.

So, really, Josten’s prank had failed pathetically. Because any minute now Andrew was going to get his damned mail—

“Do you think it ordered a package from the web?”

Andrew wondered what the chances were of Josten spontaneously combusting if Andrew continued ignoring his existence.

“Oh, wait, I have another one,” said Josten, a dangerous glint in his eye. “Do you know what a spider does in your ear?”

Andrew couldn’t help his shudder as he stepped back, cursing Josten for putting that thought in his head. He turned on his heel and left, ignoring Josten shouting after him that he’d missed the punchline.

Yes, truly pathetic. But Andrew was still going to get his revenge, and Josten was going to regret the day he’d moved into this apartment. Ideally, he was going to regret it so much that he moved out and left Andrew alone. Forever.

Andrew swiped at his ears, making sure there were no spiders lurking anywhere in or near them, and unlocked his car, already plotting his next move.

* * *

“How do I irritate someone enough to move out?” asked Andrew, cutting off whatever Wymack was talking about. Work, probably. It couldn’t possibly be important.

Wymack fixed him with an unimpressed, level glare. “I suggest you be yourself.”

“I tried that,” said Andrew, tapping his fingers on the edge of the desk wishing for a cigarette. “Didn’t work.”

“Really,” said Wymack dryly. “Your charming personality didn’t convince them to leave?”

“I don’t understand it. The rest of my neighbours are rightfully terrified of me but he’s still antagonizing me.”

“He sounds brave. Or stupid. Or both. Probably both. Now, can you quit wasting my time? I have enough people complaining about you without adding your neighbour with a death wish to the mix.”

Andrew sat back in his chair and asked, “How many cried this time?”

He knew _romance novel editor_ was probably not what people assumed when they saw him but he enjoyed his job. He had an agreement with Wymack that let him work from home, only having to come into the office every couple weeks to trade his stack of edited manuscripts for new ones. Making terrible authors of shitty stories cry was an added perk.

“Only two, but Ms. Lakes complained that you returned her manuscript with no commentary other than the word _no_ written across the title page.”

“The dialogue she wrote makes me question whether she’s ever had a conversation with another human person in her life.”

“Still it’s your job—”

“She could probably also use a basic course in anatomy.”

“I thought it was about mermaids?”

“Mermaid anatomy, then. Trust me. There’s no way that Tab G could fit into Slot B like she described. It sounded painful.”

Wymack rubbed his temples. “Dealing with you is painful. Get out of here before I decide it’s not worth it.” Andrew wasn’t worried. Wymack was far more bark than bite.

“Always a pleasure to see you, boss,” said Andrew. He stood and threw a couple crumpled receipts onto Wymack’s desk. “My monthly expenses.”

“You’re supposed to take these to finance,” said Wymack tiredly.

“They don’t like me.”

“I wonder why,” said Wymack, glancing down at the receipts. His face screwed up comically. “These receipts are for two bulk packs of red pens, seventeen pounds of coffee beans, and a monthly subscription fee to PornHub.” He glared at Andrew. “We’re not reimbursing you for that.”

“You should,” argued Andrew. “I use it for fact checking. And as a palate cleanser after you make me read straight porn.”

“That is your job. I _pay_ you. Now take your new manuscripts and let me go back to not dealing with you for another blissful two weeks.”

* * *

When Andrew got home Josten’s car was gone, which made sense because as far as Andrew could tell he was one of those corporate nine-to-fivers who wore a tie to work. Andrew snorted disdainfully. Hard pass. He knew Neil had a job like that and his descriptions always sounded horrible, even though he claimed he liked the actual accounting work. But he was also a giant weirdo who liked math, so.

Andrew considered parking like a jackass as Josten always did when both their spots were empty, but when he’d tried that last week Josten had just snuggled his little crappy car right next to Andrew’s, seemingly not caring if it got dinged or the paint got scratched or chipped. It wasn’t surprising; his car was a hideous piece of garbage, with at least two of the doors painted a different colour than the brownish-beige rust-covered body of the car.

When he entered the lobby, he surveyed his mailbox thoughtfully. The spider was probably gone by now, right? It wouldn’t have claimed his mailbox as its permanent personal property. Taking a deep breath that was definitely not caused by nerves he unlocked his mailbox and did not in any way yelp or flinch back when he caught sight of the spider arm—leg, whatever—in the same spot that it had been earlier… in the exact same spot, he realized upon reflection.

Gritting his teeth, he leaned down to get a better glimpse of the eight-legged menace. It was awful and ugly and very obviously made of rubber. He closed his eyes and counted to ten. He should… he should stuff it in Josten’s tailpipe, or throw it in with his laundry, or tape it to the outside of his window. But doing those things would require touching it and despite the fact that it was fake he didn’t want to. It wasn’t because he was scared of it; of course not, that would be silly. No, it was because Josten had already used the fake spider prank and he was better than Josten.

He gingerly pinched the end of the rubber spider leg with two fingers and flung it as far away from himself as he could. He heard a startled shriek behind him and turned to find little old Mrs O’Malley who lived across the hall glaring at him in reproach. He returned a bland look and she scurried away. See, Josten? That was how neighbours were supposed to react to him.

He gathered up his mail, happy that Renee’s prints had in fact arrived, and headed to the elevator, stopping short at the OUT OF ORDER sign. Sighing, he turned to trudge up the stairs. Today was just not his day. It was all Josten’s fault. Andrew was going to make him pay.

* * *

Andrew got his revenge the very next day. He was out on the balcony smoking a cigarette when he overheard Josten and his tall, spiky-haired, annoyingly cheerful buddy down in the parking lot, talking about what kind of pizza they wanted to order for dinner. It only took a little bit of careful observation and good timing, and less than half an hour later Andrew was the proud owner of a ridiculously large free pizza with pepperoni and extra cheese courtesy of his neighbour. He had to pick off the pepperoni slices, but the pizza alone would tide him over until his next pay cheque from Wymack arrived.

He made sure to tape a thank-you note with a ransom photo of the pizza to Josten’s door the next morning and celebrated the occasion with a cold slice of pizza in bed for breakfast.

He was halfway through the first manuscript, a blatant You’ve Got Mail rip-off though not as poorly-written as most of the junk that landed on his metaphorical desk, when a muffled buzz announced a new message on his phone. Andrew got up and stretched—he was due a break and some caffeine anyway. The caffeine was easily taken care of, though it took him a while to find his phone, which had fallen victim to his cat’s furry rear end. She made a disgruntled noise when he pulled it out, unhinged her jaw for a yawn that put every black hole in existence to shame, and went right back to sleep.

Armed with a cup of coffee and his phone, Andrew sat on the couch next to her and checked his chat with Neil first. Apparently King had somehow managed to butt-message Neil, sending him an incoherent keyboard smash.

**was that an accident or are you having another gay moment about blandon urie?** Neil had responded.

“Filthy phone thief,” Andrew muttered, smoothing his fingers over a cowlick on King’s neck before typing his reply.

_what, you don’t speak cat? and it’s brendon. though why it’s spelled with an e is beyond me_

**my mistake ;)** Neil sent back within moments. **tell king i love her too. what’s she up to?**

_sleeping as usual_ , Andrew replied.

**what an icon** , Neil sent, complete with a starry-eyed emoji. **i read your newest chapter btw. left you some comments.**

Andrew’s fingertips prickled with a strange kind of anticipation. He didn’t usually get beta readers for his fanfics—they were for fun, and editing was work—but his latest project focused more closely on Zoe’s asexuality and he’d wanted Neil’s input. Being on the other end of the red pen for once was an interesting learning experience, and perhaps just a little bit harrowing as well. But Neil had made some good points so far—and, by extension, had revealed a couple of things to Andrew which were pretty personal. They’d even had one of those deeply serious late-night conversations that always happened a lot in books but not so much in Andrew’s life.

Mostly, though, Neil’s comments were a highly entertaining stream of reactions, sass, and increasingly stupid puns that Andrew definitely did not laugh at.

Ever.

_i’ll read them tonight_ , Andrew promised. Comments from Neil had to be savoured like a dessert, not gobbled up like the last piece of stolen pepperoni-less cheese pizza.

He wasted some time scrolling through his dashboard. One of his newer fanfics was featured on a rec list by captainsunshine, one of the most prolific participants in the fandom who was known to leave sappy, encouraging comments on everything and put together weekly rec lists. So, not Andrew’s greatest achievement to date. He scrolled past it and saw that Kevin had made another rambly meta post about Exy—Andrew dumped that in his drafts to publicly disagree with later—and wildestdan was reminding everyone that the Halloween fandom exchange was coming up at the end of next month. Andrew didn’t usually participate in the exchanges, as he preferred to keep his interactions with other people to a minimum and write whatever he damn well pleased, so he scrolled right past that. The bright orange squirrel avatar below it caught his eye, indicating one of Neil’s posts. Several people had tagged him in a questions game, which Neil usually politely ignored—his online presence was mostly limited to fandom-related things—but occasionally filled out if one of his friends pestered him to do it.

_Tagged relentlessly by @numberonezoefan, @wildestdan, @sadbaguette, @queentessa and @captainsunshine (get a life guys jfc)_

_Rules: answer the following questions and tag 10 friends_

_Favourite colour: grey_

_Relationship status: fandom married to @itsallisonbitches_

_Current OTPs: I like the dynamic between Zoe and Lucy but honestly I don’t really… do… shipping? I’m just here because @queentessa personally dragged me into this fandom and won’t let me leave._

_Favourite tropes: found family (do I project? Do I ever)_

_Fandom crush: is it possible to have a crush on a fanfic? Bc I think I’m head over heels for @sundaeblues’ epic Cloud Atlas AU. Or his Night Watch Chronicles… or the latest instalment of When The Bird Stops Singing. Fuck, they’re all so good. Punch me in the fucking heart why don’t you._

Andrew had to stop reading at this point and repeatedly smack himself in the face with a sofa cushion. It was very undignified and didn’t do anything to disperse the silly, fizzy feeling in his chest. King gave him an unimpressed look and turned on her other side so she wouldn’t have to watch him make a fool out of himself over someone he’d met online, of all places.

He didn’t even know what Neil looked like, for fuck’s sake.

Right. Time to get back to work. Fictional romance, especially the poorly-written kind, was pleasantly cathartic sometimes and generally made Andrew feel quite good about himself and his occasional meaningless one-night stands.

* * *

That Friday, it was Andrew’s turn to host bi-weekly Family Dinner. The stolen pizza had lasted for less time than he’d hoped but at least his pay cheque had come through so he was able to make a grocery run for Renee’s birthday cake (strawberry cheesecake—he preferred keeping fruit separate from cake but as it was her birthday it was her choice) along with the list of ingredients that Renee had sent him earlier in the week. She always insisted they try new recipes. Andrew would never admit that he actually loved cooking together with his family—he and Aaron always complained that it was a waste of time and they should just order something in. Renee only smiled beatifically, not believing them at all. She was practiced in dealing with her younger brothers.

Josten had retaliated for stealing his pizza by stealing Andrew’s car. He didn’t take it permanently, or far, but Andrew’s precious Maserati had been parked _on the street_ instead of safely in the lot where he’d left it. He briefly considered reporting the theft to the police but dismissed the thought instantly. They’d never believe that he wasn’t just forgetting where he parked his car. But Andrew didn’t forget things; his car wasn’t in the right place. And he knew it was Josten’s fault.

He was still contemplating revenge when his door buzzer sounded. After ensuring that it was Nicky and Aaron (Renee had already texted to say she was running late) he let them up. Aaron pushed past him when he answered his knock.

“Your elevator’s out of order,” he complained.

“Again?” asked Andrew. “That’s the third time in two weeks.”

“Sounds like the universe is pranking you,” said Nicky blithely, sweeping in behind Aaron.

Andrew grit his teeth as he closed the door behind him. He felt stupid for not thinking of it sooner. The _universe_ wasn’t pranking him. It was that jerk Josten’s doing. Now there were two things he had to retaliate for.

“We saw your new neighbour,” said Nicky, taking a seat on the couch and trying to coax King into his lap. She turned her back on him. She had no interest in anyone who actually _wanted_ a cat on them; her absolute favourite perch was in Aaron’s lap. “God, he’s pretty. Finally, some eye candy around here.”

“He’s the literal worst,” corrected Andrew. “I’m trying to convince him to move out.”

Nicky rolled his eyes. “Well, Aaron helped you a little with that. He slammed the door on him, even though he was carrying groceries.”

“Good,” said Andrew approvingly, grateful for Aaron’s habitual rudeness to complete strangers. “I need ideas for revenge. I was thinking of putting chewing gum in his door lock. Maybe adding a pack of red dye to his next load of laundry.” He wanted to get this out of the way before Renee arrived. She would only give him a Look which he was pretty sure she inherited directly from their foster mother.

Nicky narrowed his eyes. “Are you flirting with him? Is this how you flirt? Because if it is, it’s the worst flirting I’ve ever seen and I once witnessed you pick up a guy by telling him you’d blow him.”

Andrew shrugged. “That worked out well for me.”

“You’re an adult now, Andrew,” said Nicky earnestly. “No more of this schoolyard pigtail-pulling bullshit. It doesn’t work in the real world.”

“I’m not flirting with Josten,” said Andrew, annoyed at Nicky’s assumption. He wasn’t flirting. He was trying to make him leave forever.

“Sounds fake, but okay.”

“I’m not,” insisted Andrew. “I mean, sure, the guy is hotter than the sun—” He had no trouble admitting that he found Josten attractive; he wasn’t _blind_. He’d seen him in his running gear.

“Mmm-hmm,” agreed Nicky dreamily.

“—but the law of the universe is that all really hot guys are irredeemable assholes.”

Aaron looked up from where he was rummaging through the fridge. “That can’t be true or else you’d be better looking.”

Nicky slowly turned on the couch to stare at Aaron. “ _Wow_ ,” he said emphatically.

The tips of Aaron’s ears were turning red, which was enjoyable for Andrew to see on someone who wasn’t him. “Shut up,” he said. “Everyone knows I’m the better looking one.”

“Insult fail,” said Nicky.

Aaron pulled a bottle of beer out of the fridge and took a seat. King perked up immediately and made her way over to him, despite his shooing motions toward her. “Go back to making fun of Andrew for being bad at flirting.”

“It’s not flirting,” Andrew reiterated. “Josten isn’t the one I—” he cut himself off, irritated with himself for what he’d almost inadvertently confessed.

“Oooo, there’s a _one_?” cooed Nicky in interest.

“Wait,” said Aaron. “Are you referring to your internet boyfriend? The squirrelly one who keeps drawing art for your fic?”

Now Andrew could feel his own ears turning red. “He’s not my boyfriend.” He might have _hopes_ for if he ever actually met Neil in real life, but they were vague, indistinct things that he never let himself dwell on for long, knowing the fantasy was little more than a pipe dream.

“Uh huh,” said Nicky, clearly not convinced.

“He’s not,” Andrew replied forcefully. “Shut up.” He was saved from any further commentary by the buzzer going off again. “Renee’s here,” he said. “Now, quickly before she gets upstairs: do you have any prank ideas, or not?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The punchline is: it makes your head spin!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're glad we make you all laugh. We made ourselves laugh too. Enjoy!

Neil felt inexplicably melancholy all weekend. In retrospect, he should have known he was getting sick; he always wallowed in self-pity when he wasn’t feeling well. 

It had started on Friday night, when he’d been laden down with groceries and Minyard— _Aaron_ Minyard he knew now, after the guy he’d been with had chided him for being rude—had characteristically slammed the door in his face. It wasn’t surprising but was still annoying. As he fumbled with his keys, Neil had been so irritated that he hadn’t even enjoyed the sight of Minyard seeing the OUT OF ORDER sign he’d put up earlier and reluctantly trudging up the stairs with his guest. 

He felt stifled from his week in the office so he changed and headed out for a run as soon as he fed Sir. The air was thick with humidity, almost soupy, and by the time he finished his run dark clouds were gathering for a late September storm. 

After he showered and ate he still couldn’t settle. He tried to watch television but he couldn’t concentrate, reading was a no go, and scrolling through his Tumblr feed was mind-numbing. He was lonely and the low hum of conversation and laughter that drifted through his open windows from Minyard’s apartment wasn’t helping. 

He knew he could call Matt and he’d come over in an instant—he and Dan were having a date night but if Neil told them he was struggling they wouldn’t begrudge him needing company. Alternatively, he could message one of his online friends; it being Friday meant that Allison was probably busy, but Kevin was likely around, as were Jean or Jeremy. 

They weren’t the ones whose company he craved. Who he really wanted was Andrew, but he was busy with family night. Neil wondered if he would one day meet Andrew’s siblings, he’d heard enough stories of Twin and Sister and Cousin to make him curious (and he’d finally learn their names which Andrew didn’t like sharing online for their privacy). 

Of course that was putting the cart before the horse; he was getting ahead of himself. First things first, he had to find a way to tell Andrew he’d moved to Atlanta. 

* * *

The cold Neil had caught from one of his colleagues started out as a minor inconvenience at first. He dragged himself to work on Monday anyway, feeling shivery and tired but not so awful he couldn’t focus. By the time he left work, his head felt like a tiny Kevin was throwing a temper tantrum inside his brain, his clothes were clammy with fever sweat, and his sinuses were blocked and sore. The driver’s seat of his car turned out to be soaked because he’d forgotten to close the window all the way and it had rained in the afternoon, which Neil didn’t find out until he sat down. He had seven missed calls from his mom who “just wanted to check in” and the grocery store was out of orange juice and his favourite bread. 

He collapsed on the sofa once he got home to close his eyes for a few minutes before tackling the insurmountable task of feeding himself. When he opened them again, it was dark outside and he still hadn’t moved. He listlessly picked up his phone and kept typing, erasing and re-typing the same sentence over and over in his chat with Andrew, trying and failing to figure out a casual way to tell him that he’d moved to Atlanta. He still didn’t know if he was ready to meet up in person, so maybe telling him tonight wasn’t a good idea anyway. 

He’d just decided not to do it when his thumb slipped and the message sent. 

“Crap,” Neil muttered, then sneezed violently three times in a row. “Double, triple crap.” 

He stared at the message, then threw his phone down, ignoring the flashing battery alert. It was done now. Future Neil could deal with the consequences tomorrow. Present Neil kind of needed all his wits to finally pry himself off of the sofa and heat a can of soup. 

At least he’d taken the time to feed Sir earlier. 

He had just managed to sit up and was blinking the dancing black spots from his vision when he heard a small noise coming from the direction of his door. Maybe Matt had decided to come over—though Matt would have texted him, because he knew Neil didn’t like surprises of the social kind. It didn’t sound like Matt’s key in the lock either, but it was definitely coming from the lock. 

“Mother of fucks,” Neil mumbled and heaved himself to his feet, swaying briefly. He snuck quietly across to the door and listened for another moment before yanking it open. 

The “no” was out of his mouth before his brain had fully processed the sight of Minyard kneeling on his doormat—the stupid one that said “Hi, I’m Mat” because Neil had made the mistake of letting Matt choose one for him. Minyard had obviously been in the process of messing with Neil’s lock, and Neil just couldn’t be fucking bothered to deal with him on top of everything else. 

“Not today.” 

Minyard stared at him for a long moment, then stood up with a shrug and turned to leave. He paused halfway across the hallway and glanced back with a calculating look in his eyes. 

“If we’re able to opt out of this nonsense, next Wednesday isn’t great for me.” 

Neil sneezed, surprised by the borderline civility of the exchange. Maybe he was hallucinating. People sometimes hallucinated when they were sick, right? 

“I’ll pencil it in,” he mumbled to Minyard’s possibly-not-real retreating back. Minyard paused one more time to salute him and disappeared back into his own apartment, closing the door uncharacteristically gently behind him. 

A soft brush around his legs alerted Neil to the fact that Sir was sticking his nosy whiskers out into the hallway. He nudged him back inside with his foot, checked to make sure his lock was still in working condition and closed the door. 

“That was kind of bizarre,” he said to Sir, who was looking up at him questioningly. “Right. What was I going to do?” 

Sir didn’t know either, so Neil went back to the sofa. 

* * *

Neil woke from a restless sleep that had been filled with indistinct fever dreams of running after something but never catching up to it. There had also been a few about suffocating but he chalked those up to Sir’s decision to cuddle up on his chest, likely because he was giving off heat like a furnace. 

He was feeling even worse this morning: his throat was possibly now made of sandpaper, his eyes were glued shut, and his sheets were damp with sweat. He contemplated getting up to go to work anyway before reciting the mantra that Matt had taught him during his first year of college. 

“Being sick is allowed,” he croaked. “If I rest I will get better faster. I am not in trouble.” 

He reached for his phone to call in to work, cursing when he found it missing. He must have forgotten to charge it last night. Closing his eyes to gather his strength, he debated whether or not he really _needed_ to get out of bed. His manager had seen him yesterday. She’d figure it out. 

His musings were disturbed by the sound of a cat licking a plastic bag. Sir had found one somewhere and then strategically placed himself so that he was close enough that Neil couldn’t ignore the sound but far enough away that Neil couldn’t swat at him. He’d perfected many annoyance tactics for getting Neil out of bed as soon as he woke. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming, you little menace,” grumbled Neil, pulling himself upright. He waited for the dizziness to subside before shuffling out to the kitchen to dump fresh food into Sir’s bowl. He then grabbed his dead phone, made a pit stop in the bathroom, and collapsed back into bed, feeling worn out. In general, Neil enjoyed living alone. Sometimes he got lonely but he liked having his own space. It was times like these that made him wish for a roommate: someone to bring him tea and soup and feed the needy cat. 

His eyes kept trying to shut and he almost nodded off as he waited for his phone to turn back on and download all his messages. Matt had sent a series of increasingly alarmed texts; Neil shot him a quick message to say he was sick and staying home from work but he was _fine_ so not to worry—even with the addendum he expected that Matt and possibly Dan were going to show up after work to fuss over him. 

He called his manager to tell her he was sick and she was surprisingly blasé about it. She told him to stay home for a couple days so he wouldn’t spread his plague to anyone else. He was slightly taken aback about how little she seemed to care. At his last job his manager had always made him feel guilty for taking any time off, even his allotted vacation time. 

That taken care of, he contemplated the Tumblr icon in his notifications bar. He cursed Past Neil and considered taking a nap and continuing to leave the problem for Future Neil before he bit the bullet and opened the app. He checked his activity feed before he braved looking at his messages, since he’d been tagged an unusual amount of times overnight. As far as he could tell the fandom was involved in some sort of drama of the kind he generally avoided and Kevin was probably at the centre of. Ignoring all of that, he flipped over to his messages. 

A wave of disappointment washed over him. Andrew hadn’t responded. It was possible that he was sleeping—every so often his sleep debt caught up with him and he slept for days at a time—but it was more likely that he was avoiding him. 

Neil tapped on their chat thread anyway to make sure that the garbage Tumblr app wasn’t hiding his messages, but no, the last entry was still from him: _who has two thumbs and lives in atlanta? this guy!_

He couldn’t believe, after all his carefully worded messages, that _this_ was the one he accidentally sent. He groaned and slumped back, tossing his phone aside. Maybe after he slept everything would miraculously be fixed. 

* * *

Nothing was miraculously fixed, not even after two days spent mostly in bed, but at least Neil was starting to feel a little bit less like a decomposing corpse. Being cooped up inside for so long made him antsy though, so he bundled up and went for a very slow walk around the neighbourhood, picking up a few bagels, some cheese and a bag of oranges at the little farmer’s market in the park. It was an unseasonably chilly morning, last week’s storm having chased away the summer’s lingering humidity. Skinny clouds were coiled in the sky like decorative fish, tinged a shimmery orange around the edges. It would have been the perfect weather for a run, but Matt and Dan would have Neil’s head if they knew he was even considering it in this state. 

“You look like shit,” someone said behind him. Neil whirled around and one of his oranges plopped out of the bag at the sudden movement and rolled away, coming to rest at the tip of Minyard’s left boot. The boots were clunky and oversized and entirely impractical. Neil doubted Minyard would be able to run in them if he needed to. 

“Good morning to you too, asshole,” Neil muttered, mind still too slow to think of a better comeback. 

“It would be,” Minyard said, kicking the orange back towards Neil, “if only _someone_ hadn’t bought the last of the cinnamon raisin bagels.” 

Neil felt quietly pleased that he’d unwittingly managed to one-up Minyard. He was so pleased he forgot that bending down still made him dizzy, and had only just scooped up his orange before his vision blacked out for a moment and his knees buckled under him. He landed awkwardly on the cold ground and a couple more oranges bounced merrily away. 

“Hm, too bad,” Minyard said, watching one of them roll underneath a nearby stall and doing nothing to stop it. 

“Too bad about your _face_ ,” Neil replied hotly. His brain still wasn’t producing anything remotely witty, but the way Minyard’s eyebrows rose was almost comical. Had Neil genuinely offended him? Or— 

Oh. 

He self-consciously touched the old scar on the side of his face. He didn’t even remember getting it—his father had been drunk and angry and his mom hadn’t been home to take the brunt of it, probably. Now that he was an adult it was easy to forget the scar too as long as he didn’t look into any mirrors. People were usually all too happy to pretend the big, ugly mark of violence on his face didn’t exist, which suited Neil well. He’d been the new kid at school so many times that there’d always been children who thought mocking or excluding him for it was a wonderfully original idea. 

“Nevermind,” Neil muttered, pushing to his feet. He left the oranges behind and made his way out of the park, his face tucked deep into his scarf. All of his tentative okay-ish mood had plunged back down to grim irritation, and it was entirely Minyard’s fault. He picked one of the cinnamon raisin bagels out of the bag and crammed it defiantly into his mouth, hoping the lack of breakfast had spoiled Minyard’s morning just as thoroughly as their encounter had spoiled Neil’s. 

When he got home, he checked his phone again for messages from Andrew but found none. His irritation flared back to life and he typed out a few different things before deleting them all and tossing his phone down. He paced around his kitchen for a while, made a cup of tea and forgot about it, then made another cup of tea and took it back to bed with him. Then he turned his phone back on and wrote: 

_uh, sorry, i didn’t know how to tell you. i’m kinda nervous about meeting up tbh. not that we have to if you don’t want to. it’s a big city and all that and i’m totally fine if we stick to chatting on here, just putting that out there._

He’d just sent it off when there was a knock on his door. Sir had made himself comfortable on his lap and Neil huffed, taking a moment to disentangle himself from the blankets and put his tea somewhere it couldn’t be knocked over by mischievous cat paws. By the time he got to the door there was no one outside anymore, but he found a neat pile of oranges on his doormat along with a note. 

Wary of any traps, Neil crouched down to inspect the oranges. They didn’t look tampered with, just a little bit dirty from lying on the ground. He pinched the note between two fingers and picked it up. It read: 

**you owe me ~~two~~ THREE cinnamon raisin bagels. fuck off.**

* * *

Neil felt even better the next day, well enough that he was sure he’d be able to return to work the following day. In preparation, he lugged his germ-ridden and fever sweat-soaked sheets and towels and clothing down to the basement laundry room to wash them. The machines were coin operated and ancient but still more convenient than going to a laundromat. He shoved everything into a free washing machine and set the timer on his phone so he wouldn’t forget his laundry as he had in the past. 

In an attempt to be smart about his still-fragile health, he took the elevator from the basement back up to his floor. He lamented his bad luck when it made a stop in the lobby and Minyard got on. The silence was awkward between them as the elevator rose. Neil wondered if he should thank Minyard for returning his oranges or if they’d reached a stalemate in their little war. 

He breathed a sigh of relief when the interminably slow elevator reached their floor, hurrying off the elevator and away from Minyard’s assessing gaze. His phone blooped while he was unlocking his door. His heart rose in anticipation until he saw that it was only Kevin messaging him. 

**where have you been?** Kevin wrote. **you didn’t weigh in on any of the drama that happened between the lucy stans and the lucy haters**

Just thinking about it made Neil grimace. _you know i don’t usually get involved_

**except when people are badmouthing lucy.** It wasn’t like Kevin was wrong. Neil had had his fair share of arguments with people who dared say anything bad about her. **i thought you’d at least respond when andrew posted one of his why lucy sucks lists**

Neil felt nauseated. Maybe he wasn’t as recovered as he’d thought. _you’ve heard from andrew? recently?_

**uhh, yesterday, i think**

_so it’s just me he’s avoiding_ , Neil wrote bitterly. _i can’t believe he’s so annoyed i live in atlanta_

**alkjfaewigjalkfj you LIVE IN ATLANTA?!?!!?!**

“Oops,” muttered Neil. He hadn’t meant to let that slip. 

**that’s great! you’ll have no excuse for missing the next meet-up i organize**

Neil rolled his eyes. Kevin lived in Nashville and was very gung-ho about organizing fandom events for everyone in the southeast. The last one he’d organized had taken place the previous May when Neil had been incredibly lonely while still living in Phoenix. He’d considered attending—coming for a week or so to stay with Dan and Matt and going with them for the weekend to Nashville—but he’d chickened out at the last minute, worried in case Andrew also showed up. In the end, neither of them attended and Kevin still hadn’t forgiven him for flaking out. 

_we’ll see_ , said Neil as his phone beeped to indicate his laundry was ready to transfer to the dryer. _brb, doing laundry_

He took the stairs this time, not willing to chance any more awkward elevator encounters. Yanking open the washing machine, he froze. Everything was pink. He dug through the wet laundry, looking for the offending red sock he must have accidentally overlooked. But it wasn’t a sock. It was a red pen. The same type of red pen that he’d witnessed Minyard removing a bulk pack of from his mailbox. 

It seemed their temporary ceasefire was at an end. 


	4. Chapter 4

Andrew had been staring at his phone for the better part of an hour. He kept going back and forth between his dashboard, which was full of blacklisted posts today and not very interesting otherwise, and his chat with Neil. He still hadn’t replied to Neil’s revelation about moving to Atlanta. It was hard to find the right words, and every day that passed without talking to Neil made it even harder. It also made Andrew hyper-aware of how used he’d become to Neil’s presence in his life lately, which in and of itself was a lot to unpack.

He’d even started to slack off in his and Josten’s ongoing prank war, too distracted with thoughts of Neil. Neil, who had until recently existed in this comfortable limbo of always being just a click away and at the same time hundreds of miles removed from the state lines of Andrew’s personal space. Neil, who had suddenly become a lot more real, a lot more immediate. Maybe they’d even unknowingly crossed paths already.

Andrew’s back prickled with unease at the thought and he exited the chat, once again switching back to his dashboard before clicking aimlessly through the various open tabs. There were a few fanfics he might read at some point, a couple of Wikipedia articles he’d pulled up as research for the one he was currently writing, several more he’d sort of just found by accident in the process and a recipe for enchiladas that Nicky had sent him. The last tab contained Neil’s most recent fanart of Lucy, standing in goal with her bulky armor on, her giant racquet raised mid-swing.

The caption was: **ungentle reminder that my girl lucy overcame a shitload of trauma and doesn’t owe any of you a palatable recovery. can’t believe we’re having this discussion again tbh**

Neil was one of the few people in the fandom who had the guts to draw her as she was described: a broad-shouldered, roughly-hewn tank of a girl who didn’t give a shit about being conventionally attractive or catering to social niceties. She had scars that Neil didn’t shy away from, and there was such a grim fierceness radiating from her hunched posture that Andrew almost couldn’t believe it was just a simple pencil sketch. He knew Neil didn’t take himself very seriously as an artist, but even his messiest doodles had an intensity to them that caught the eye. It was obvious to anyone who looked at them that Neil loved Lucy’s character.

But that was the trouble, wasn’t it?

She was a character. Yes, Andrew identified with her to an unhealthy degree sometimes, but he wasn’t Lucy. He was just Andrew. People didn’t usually like just Andrew, with the exception of his family, maybe. But Andrew made an effort with Aaron and Nicky and Renee, even if that wasn’t obvious at first glance—he’d always made an effort with them. He didn’t really know how to stop at this point.

With Neil, he wanted to be just Andrew. Which was easy on the internet, with a whole country between them. Except now there wasn’t, and Andrew had to make a decision about whether or not he was ready to be a real person around Neil.

He switched back to the chat and started to type.

* * *

The odds of him and Neil becoming friends were so minuscule that Andrew still wasn’t sure exactly how it happened. At the time he’d been in the fandom for long enough that his username was known in the community. He rarely engaged other than writing fics and occasionally arguing with Kevin about whether or not Exy made any sense (it did _not_ ), but his fics were fairly popular which resulted in multiple asks and mentions that he habitually ignored. He wasn’t writing fic to make friends, he did it for his own personal enjoyment.

Writing and storytelling had always been an escape for him, from his early days shuffled between foster homes when he preferred disappearing into fantasy worlds he spun in his head. Even later, after he’d found out that he had a twin brother he’d been separated from as infants and was offered a place in Aaron’s foster home, his writing was as essential to him as breathing.

It had been there, in the safety of Stephanie Walker’s home, that he’d first read the All For The Court series. At the time, only the first two books had been published and Renee had lent her copies to Aaron after he’d used the word “gay” as an insult.

Andrew hadn’t been living there yet but according to Aaron, Renee had pinned him with a look that had him shaking in fear. Renee was four years older than they were and had been living with Stephanie for three. In general she was sweet and kind but she also had a will of iron and put up with none of their teenage boy nonsense.

“In what way,” she’d asked Aaron, her tone sweet although there was a barb in it, “is your math homework gay? Is there a question about a relationship between two people of the same gender?”

“No,” Aaron had replied. He knew he was on shaky ground but couldn’t quite figure out why. “I didn’t mean gay as in _gay_ , I meant gay as in stupid.”

Andrew could only imagine Renee’s reaction to that. Aaron didn’t go into details, but he’d never used gay as an insult again. Hearing this story for the first time during his second week in Stephanie’s house had made Andrew exhale in relief. He’d known for a while that his own appreciative gazes weren’t aimed at girls.

Renee had given the All For The Court books to Aaron because there was good representation in them but also sports and murder and the mafia, which she hoped would keep his interest. He and Andrew had devoured the books together. Aaron still had a soft spot for the series but he’d never related as strongly to the characters as Andrew did, particularly to Lucy.

He’d started writing stories about her almost immediately but it wasn’t until he was in college that he found the fandom. He rarely posted any Lucy-centric stories, not willing to share anything that hit so close to home with the world, but he’d quickly made a name for himself posting long, plotty stories that starred Zoe or occasionally Tessa.

When Neil had posted and tagged him in a drawing of Lucy from his Cloud Atlas series he’d nearly ignored it until he’d seen that Neil hadn’t shied away from drawing Lucy as described. This coupled with the strange username had piqued his interest. Clicking through Neil’s blog he’d learned that he was an unashamed Lucy stan, which had almost prevented him from reaching out as he’d never liked how unexpectedly popular she was in the fandom. He knew in real life that none of those people would give Lucy the time of day, that they’d write her off as violent and irredeemable.

Instead, against his better judgment, he’d messaged Neil, _what the hell does a german squirrel have to do with aftc?_

It hadn’t been long before eichhoernchen10 responded, **my super american roommate was bothering me to pick a username so i chose one he couldn’t pronounce. are you german or did you cheat with google translate? cause i’ve got to say that if you’re writing in your non-native language i’m even more impressed with your fics**

It had been awkward at first but Andrew had kept responding and soon he and Neil were chatting every day and sharing more and more information about themselves. It had happened so gradually that he hadn’t even realized how essential Neil had become to him. The past five days had been the longest they’d gone without contact; he couldn’t avoid him any longer.

He was almost as nervous as he had been the first time he messaged Neil, writing and rewriting what he wanted to say to him before settling on, _hi_

He waited, wishing that Tumblr messenger had a feature to let you know when the other person was typing like Discord did. Of course, then Neil would know how many times Andrew had tried to respond to him over the last few days and failed miserably.

**you’re talking to me now?** replied Neil, followed almost immediately by, **i know tone doesn’t always come across in text but that was sarcastic and accusatory**

_your tone is sarcastic and accusatory by default_ , Andrew typed back. _no need to specify_

**make it extra sarcastic and accusatory then**

Andrew huffed out a breath and tapped his fingers against the side of his phone. The ice was broken, now he just needed to navigate the minefield of explaining himself. Or, hell, apologising. He groaned and promptly dropped his phone on his face. He fucking hated apologies. They were useless and fake most of the time—what counted was changing your behavior, not making empty promises or pretending to be sorry just because it was socially expected. Before he could decide how to broach the topic, though, his phone vibrated painfully against his nose.

**look, i get it, you don’t want to meet up. i already said that’s fine by me. i didn’t move here because of you, i just thought it would be weird not to say anything and i didn’t wanna lie to you. i didn’t mean to be so blunt, but i was super sick when i sent that message. we could have talked about it like adults but no you decided to be extra and ghosted me for a week, what the hell andrew**

Andrew considered making a dumb joke and laughing it off, but he didn’t actually want to rile Neil up, as much as he secretly enjoyed doing that otherwise. So he sent a simple: _you’re right,_ and waited patiently as Neil’s reply took longer than usual.

**oh** , was all that came through first. **and here i had a whole rant all planned out and rehearsed in my head.**

_i’m sure it was brutal_ , Andrew sent back.

**it was** , Neil replied. **but i’ll spare you, just this once, because i know admitting i was right must have been very painful for you**

_how generous of you_ , Andrew typed. It was easy to segue back into their usual banter then, and something in Andrew relaxed minutely. Maybe there wasn’t quite the same amount of distance between them anymore, but Neil was still Neil. Maybe one day they would both decide they wanted to meet up, then at least neither of them would have to travel very far. Maybe they wouldn’t.

Either way, they were going to be fine.

* * *

Andrew throwing one of his leaky red pens into Josten’s laundry gave their prank war a second wind. Josten redoubled his efforts, seemingly in an improved mood after his illness. The pink laundry kickstarted a slew of laundry related pranks, culminating in Andrew finding a familiar giant rubber spider nestled in the dryer with his clothes. He obviously didn’t react negatively, not being frightened of spiders, but he did scoff in disdain at Josten being so unimaginative as to repeat a prank. Especially one that had pathetically failed in the first place.

To Andrew’s surprise, Josten actually laid off on the day Andrew had asked him to. In order to check whether this was by chance, Andrew left him a note on his door specifying a couple other days that Andrew would prefer to be left alone. Josten left his own list on Andrew’s door and respected Andrew’s wishes.

It went against everything Andrew thought he knew about the man. It occurred to him that if Josten was able to follow instructions he was actually a good candidate to hook up with. He dismissed the thought immediately. Hooking up with his neighbour was an incredibly stupid idea. It was too bad, though. Josten was hot and hooking up with him may have driven Neil from Andrew’s mind.

Their interactions had gone back to normal in the past few weeks but Andrew was having a hard time ignoring the elephant in the room. He thought about what it would be like to meet Neil almost constantly and worried that they’d already seen each other without knowing it. Every time he was out he watched men suspiciously, wondering if any of them were Neil.

“Neil?” called the barista at his favourite tea shop, unfortunately named Positivi-tea.

Andrew almost spilled his tea all over himself whipping his head around to look at the tall, lanky, South Asian man who responded to the call. Was that _his_ Neil? Neil wasn’t a very common name but it wasn’t unique either. What should he do? Hide, probably.

He ducked his head and turned back to his drink. From across the table, Aaron was giving him a narrowed-eyed look.

“What’s going on with you?” he asked, taking a sip of his own tea. “Are you sure you shouldn’t have gotten a cup of _Relax_?”

Andrew shook his head, happy with his choice of _Awake_. The shop unsurprisingly had cutesy names for their tea blends and Andrew usually stuck with the black tea options: _Awake_ or _Energize_ or _Productivity_. So did Aaron, as being a medical student seemed to require consuming as much caffeine as a small country.

“Seriously,” continued Aaron, “did you kill someone?”

“What?” asked Andrew. “Why would you ask that?”

“You’re all jumpy and looking around like someone’s following you. Either a killer is stalking you or you murdered someone and the police are onto you.”

Andrew rolled his eyes. “Have you been reading crime novels again?”

“I’m a third year medical student,” said Aaron, raising his eyebrows. “You think I have time to read for fun?”

“Don’t blame me for your terrible life choices.”

“I have been listening to true crime podcasts before I go to sleep,” admitted Aaron. “They give me weird dreams.” He took another sip of his tea. “So was it your neighbour?”

“My neighbour?”

“That you killed.”

“I didn’t kill anyone, no matter how much I might want to,” said Andrew. “It’s just…” he trailed off and fiddled with his cup. Sighing deeply, he told Aaron, “Neil moved to town.”

“Neil?” asked Aaron, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Wait, you mean your internet guy?” His face became serious. “Is he stalking you?”

Andrew threw a napkin at him. “Nobody’s stalking me, you drama queen. He moved to town for reasons that have nothing to do with me.”

“Are you going to meet him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why not? Are you worried he’s ugly?”

Andrew glared. “ _No_ , I’m not worried he’s ugly.”

Aaron shrugged. “He could be.”

“He’s not ugly,” said Andrew. “And it doesn’t matter if he is. But he’s not. He’s a bit of an asshole; odds are he’s probably really attractive without realizing it.” He buried his face in his hands so the next part would be muffled. “He’s going to be way out of the league of a potato like me.”

Aaron looked at him in contemplation. “I don’t think you look like a potato. Well,” he said, tilting his head to the side, “unless it’s one of those misshapen potatoes with growths that look like arms and legs. Then I can see it.”

“You’re not helping.”

“If you wanted a self-esteem pep talk you should have gone to Renee.”

Andrew huffed but didn’t argue.

“Are you really worried? Cause I can’t imagine you tone down your personality much online and if he already likes that…”

“You’re the worst.”

“Honestly, Andrew,” said Aaron, suddenly turning serious again, “you should just meet him. All you’re doing right now is worrying and making it into a bigger deal in your head than it actually is. You’re not going to rest until you know one way or the other.”

That evening, Aaron’s words echoing in his head, Andrew took a deep breath and typed out a message to Neil, pressing send before he could change his mind.

_do you think we should meet?_


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all are so cute. we love and appreciate all of your sweet comments and hope you enjoy this chapter as things progress - well, a little... ;)

**do you think we should meet?**

Neil stared at the message. He hadn’t expected Andrew to ask so soon considering the way he’d reacted to Neil’s news at first. Over the past two weeks Neil had talked himself down from his own anxiety and insecurities about meeting Andrew in person, and now it was all flaring back to life at once, filling him with doubt. 

_Should_ they meet? 

His heart felt like someone was clenching a fist around it. He caught his reflection in the window—it was dark outside, and his own face looked back at him, blurry and pale, the scar an ugly distortion in the glass. There were more scars hidden under his clothes, remnants of a half-forgotten childhood. He needed a haircut. That, at least, could be fixed; although Neil hated having a stranger’s hands on his head. Just the thought of someone standing behind him, the hiss of scissors so close to his ears, made his spine seize up in distress. 

What would Andrew think of him? 

They’d meet in some coffee shop, probably. A public place, of course. Somewhere they could easily escape from if things turned sour. Neil tried to picture what he’d wear and came up blank. All of his nice clothes were for work; he didn’t want to meet Andrew in a tie. The rest was all just athletic wear or old, faded, comfortable hoodies and jeans or sweatpants, none of which felt right. Andrew sometimes reblogged fashion stuff—surely that meant he cared about that sort of thing—and he occasionally had a gay moment in the tags of a post about some celebrity or other. From these Neil had a vague idea of what Andrew’s type in men was, though he couldn’t for the life of him tell if he fit the criteria. 

He forced himself to backtrack. Whether or not Andrew found him attractive was completely irrelevant to the question of meeting up for a friendly cup of coffee. Most of his scars could be covered up, and maybe Neil could ask Matt for help with his hair and outfit. Allison would probably send him reference pictures for good haircuts if he did decide to go and get it cut. And as stressful as meeting new people was, Neil hadn’t actually stuttered since high school and besides, Andrew wasn’t _new_. 

Alright. They were going to do this. 

Neil picked up his phone to send his reply and dropped it again almost immediately when the fire alarm went off. 

It was probably nothing, but there was no way Neil was abandoning his cat in a potentially burning building, and in his frantic search for Sir, he left his phone behind under the coffee table. Finally he stuffed the panicked animal into his carrier and hurried outside, joining the other tenants where they were all huddled in the parking lot. Minyard, he noticed, was scowling at the windshield of his car where Neil had lovingly drawn a giant penis with shaving cream earlier today. 

Ha. 

The fire alarm cut off at last. Sir picked up the slack by yowling pathetically and Neil tried his best to comfort him as they waited to be let back inside the building. When all his cajoling didn’t help and Neil was starting to worry Sir would hurt himself trying to get out of the carrier, he relented and opened the door. He’d just carry him back inside—Sir was a big, lazy oaf and didn’t usually mind Neil picking him up and relocating him, and maybe being out of the carrier would calm him down until they were back inside. 

Neil realised his mistake when a terrified Sir immediately launched himself through the small gap in the door and into the shrubbery at the end of the parking lot, vanishing in the dark. 

Well, fuck. 

* * *

“Sir!” 

Neil had been looking for almost an hour. 

“Sir Fat Cat!” 

There was no sign of the damn cat anywhere in the neighbourhood. 

“Bastard! Asswipe! Fuckface!” 

An elderly white man tottering past with a dog on a leash looked at him, scandalised. Neil eyed the dog and sighed. If Sir had been nearby, he would be long gone by now. The one time Matt had brought over a dog that he and Dan were looking after while the owner was on holiday, Sir had retreated to the bathroom and climbed up the shower curtain, hissing and spitting from his precarious perch. He’d peed on Neil’s bed in protest the moment he’d dared to come down again, and Neil had had to buy a new mattress because the smell was so pungent even he couldn’t sleep through it. 

A hollow ache pounded away in his stomach. It was probably just hunger—he hadn’t eaten dinner yet, and the fire alarm and Sir’s escape had thrown a spanner in his plans of microwaving the leftover pumpkin soup Matt had made for him last night and working on some fanart before bed. 

A car sped past, splashing him with stale rainwater from a puddle. It was going far too fast for this part of town and Neil kicked a pebble after it, grinding his teeth. 

If he couldn’t find Sir, or if one of these fucking irresponsible drivers had run him over, Neil was never going to draw fanart ever again. 

God damn. 

A light drizzle started up and Neil hunched his shoulders against it, pushing his hands deep into his trouser pockets. He was uncomfortably sweaty, his stomach seemed to be in the process of eating itself, and there was still no Sir. The thought of going back to his empty apartment made him feel sick. He finished his last circuit of the block and sat on the curb. Helplessness crept over him like the damp from the rain, slowly soaking through his skin until he couldn’t shake it off anymore. 

He just wanted his damn cat. 

Whoever had set off the smoke detectors, Neil was going to kill them. Now that he thought about it, it was probably Minyard with his stupid cigarettes and his pretentious silver lighter, too lazy to go outside for his smoke. 

“Lose something?” 

Neil flinched. It was like his thoughts had summoned the man. Neil whirled around, about to give his least favourite neighbour a piece of his mind, but Minyard wasn’t alone. A cat carrier dangled from his hand, and inside, mewling and scratching at the plastic, was Sir. Neil grabbed the carrier and knelt down in front of it, sticking his fingers through the grated door. He felt weak with relief when Sir came forward to smell his fingers and bump his nose against them in a friendly greeting, looking unharmed if a bit bedraggled and damp. 

“Where did you find him?” Neil asked. He didn’t even have any energy left for animosity, and Minyard _had_ brought Sir back, after all. 

“Hiding under my car,” Minyard said. “What’s his name?” 

“McCatterson,” Neil said stiffly. Minyard didn’t deserve to be on a first-name basis with his cat, not after what he’d done to Neil’s doorbell last week. 

“That’s dumb.” 

Neil scowled. The name had been given to Sir at the shelter where Neil had picked him up, but he still felt defensive about it now that Minyard had called it dumb. 

“Not as dumb as setting off the fire alarm because of your stupid addiction.” 

Minyard raised an eyebrow. 

“I don’t smoke inside the building.” 

“All smokers say that,” Neil huffed. “Now if you’ll excuse me, my cat needs a bath.” 

He took the carrier with him and didn’t notice that it wasn’t his own until he was already in his apartment. He couldn’t remember if Minyard had a cat with him earlier, but Neil felt a stab of irritation at the idea that his nemesis might also be a cat owner. 

He was going to have to return the stupid carrier at some point, but for now, Sir really did need a bath, and even more than that Neil really, really needed some food. 

* * *

After wrestling an incredibly uncooperative cat through a warm bath (what he didn’t wish for a second pair of hands to help him) and practically inhaling his pumpkin soup and a handful of saltines, Neil realized that he hadn’t answered Andrew earlier. Even though he’d been ready to meet, the fire alarm seemed like a sign of some kind. 

It took him awhile to find his phone under the coffee table. He’d first checked inside the couch, taking all the cushions off and individually searching them, before considering that maybe he’d left his phone in his room. A damp Sir had placed himself smack dab in the middle of Neil’s bed and hissed at him when he approached, sending Neil back to the living room to replay the last moments he could remember having his phone. Crawling along the floor, he’d finally spied it under the coffee table. 

He had a couple more messages from Andrew. 

**or not** , was the first one, followed by, **it was just a suggestion.** Then, **you can say no instead of ghosting me**

_thought you should know what it’s like_ , replied Neil. _i wasn’t ignoring you, sir decided to go on a walkabout_

Andrew’s reply was quick, **he ok?**

_found him eventually_

**good**

Neil fished for something else to say that didn’t involve answering Andrew’s question. _how many ping pong balls do you think can fit into a standard sized sports car?_ He’d been putting this prank off, not sure where he’d get all the ping pong balls. 

**...for any particular reason?** asked Andrew. 

Neil just sent back a winky face emoji. 

**if i were filling someone’s car with something, i wouldn’t use ping pong balls** , Andrew wrote after a long pause. **one: that many would be expensive, two: if you park close by there’s going to be ping pong balls on the ground for months, and three: think of all that plastic in a landfill**

_i forgot you were such an environmentalist_ , snarked Neil. 

**i’m just practiced at pranks** , wrote Andrew. **use paper confetti. you work in an office, don’t you?**

_oooh_ , replied Neil, _yeah, good idea_. He knew that the administrative assistant in his office shredded and discarded sensitive documents every Friday. He’d ask if he could have the paper instead of sending it out with the trash. 

**you don’t have to deflect, you can say no to us meeting**

Neil tapped his fingers thoughtfully on the side of his phone. _i’m not saying no_ , he typed slowly. 

**that isn’t a yes**

Trust Andrew to notice the difference. _i need some time to think about it_

Whether or not to meet Andrew was the question that had been running through his head near-constantly for the past few weeks, or months, really. Ever since he’d moved to Atlanta, if he was being honest. He still wasn’t any closer to an answer. He needed to call in a second opinion. 

* * *

Neil watched listlessly as another basket was… scored? basketed? hooped? God, he really knew nothing about basketball—and the players ran to the opposite end of the floor. 

He sighed. “This sport doesn’t have enough body checking.” 

Dan chuckled from beside him. “Why do you think I always insisted on going to hockey games when I visited you in Phoenix?” 

“I wish Exy was real.” 

“You and Kevin both,” she said. “How about football? We could go to see the Falcons next time.” 

“They don’t play often enough,” complained Neil. 

Dan took a gulp of her $17 beer. “You’re just picky.” She and Neil had been attending sporting events together ever since they’d met, since both of them were fans and Matt was more interested in going to museums or to the ballet or to the theatre than attending games with either of them. 

Neil sighed again. 

“And that’s the sixteenth time you’ve sighed in the last half hour,” said Dan. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong or am I going to have to pry it out of you?” 

“Andrew thinks we should meet.” 

Neil watched as Dan obviously tried to subdue her reaction. “And what do you think?” she asked in a controlled tone. 

“I don’t know!” Neil burst out. “You’re my most reasonable friend; tell me what to do!” 

Dan lost the battle of remaining impartial as amusement won out. “Who’s my competition? Matt and Kevin? What an honour.” 

“Dan, tell me what to do,” repeated Neil. 

“It’s not up to me,” she said. “Why don’t you want to? I thought you were close.” 

“Yeah,” he replied, “but what if...” he self-consciously touched the scar on his face. Dan raised an eyebrow and he knew he was about ten seconds from getting a forceful lecture about how attractive he was, so he hurriedly continued, “We flirt all the time and it’s easy online. What if he wants more than I can give? He knows I’m demi, but what if he doesn’t actually understand?” 

Dan opened and then closed her mouth before grimacing apologetically. It wouldn’t be the first time that someone had seemed understanding of Neil’s sexuality without actually being so. Several people he’d tried to date in college were either convinced that Neil would just get over not wanting to have sex or they figured that since he was demi, as soon as he had feelings for them his sex drive would rev up. That wasn’t the way it worked for him and although Andrew at least accepted that asexuality existed—his fics indicated that quite well—Neil had no proof that was actually what he wanted. 

Dan shrugged helplessly. “I can’t make this decision for you, Neil,” she said, patting him on the head. “But wouldn’t you rather know, one way or the other?” 

* * *

Neil let himself mull it over for a few more days. He thought about it at work, he thought about it on his lunch breaks, he thought about it while playing ping pong with Matt (and losing spectacularly) and he thought about it while enduring a never-ending phone call with his mom on Wednesday night. He loved his mom, but three hours were too fucking long for a phone call with _anyone_. 

On Friday, he—well, _borrowed_ a few bags of shredded paper on his way out of the office. He hadn’t strictly gotten permission for taking it, but he figured it was only going to be thrown away otherwise, so it was fair game. After dropping the bags off at his place and feeding Sir, he met up with Matt and Dan for dinner at Matt’s favourite curry place and the two of them prodded and poked until Neil came with them to a bar. He didn’t drink, but there was a live gig and the chairs were comfy, and Neil didn’t have a horrible time nursing an iced tea and listening to Matt and Dan bickering good-naturedly about which Pokémon was the cutest and whether Michael B. Jordan was hotter than Chadwick Boseman. 

Neil ended up staying the night at their place. It still made him feel awkward to sleep over at other people’s houses, even though Matt had literally been his roommate for years. Neil blamed his mom as she would never have let him stay the night anywhere else even if Neil had had friends back in school, so he’d never really become used to it. 

He woke up slightly groggy and disoriented, the house still in a sleepy daze around him. It was too early for Dan to be up, and even Matt, perpetual early riser that he was, would still be asleep after a night out. Neil padded to the kitchen on silent feet, decided he wouldn’t risk the noisy coffee machine and got a glass of orange juice instead before crawling back into bed with his phone. 

He scrolled idly through his dashboard for a while, methodically replied to the fifteen messages Kevin had sent him last night, and finally opened his chat with Andrew. 

_okay, let’s meet_

He took a deep breath and put his phone away. There, he’d done it. Now he just had to wait for Andrew’s reply. Andrew had warned him last night that he’d just finished a bunch of editing and was probably going to crash soon, which meant he might not respond for a day or two, but Neil was just going to have to distract himself while he waited. 

And he knew just the way to do that. 

* * *

Matt insisted on driving him home after breakfast. Neil still felt a little out of it, so he didn’t fight him on it too much. They stopped on the way to get smoothies and Neil filled Matt in on the recent happenings in his war with Minyard. Matt laughed out loud when Neil told him about the confetti prank he’d planned. 

“Want to help?” Neil said, grinning around his straw. 

“Do you need to ask?” Matt grinned back. 

They had fun sneaking upstairs and listening at Minyard’s door. All was quiet on the other side. Sir effectively ruined their stealth by greeting them at the door and yelling at Neil for daring to abandon him over night, and they lost some time fussing over him and feeding him treats. There was still no sign of life from behind Minyard’s door when they emerged with the bags, though, and they high-fived when they made it to his car undetected. 

“He’s going to be picking paper out of his clothes for weeks,” Neil gloated, getting to work on the car door. Matt looked slightly conflicted about the actual breaking-into-the-car part of the plan but stood guard nonetheless. “Wish I could see his face when he finds this.” 

Someone cleared their throat behind them and they both jumped. Matt had the good grace to look incredibly sheepish when they spotted Minyard leaning against the doorframe wearing the fluffiest bathrobe Neil had ever seen in his life and a pair of incredibly soft-looking slippers. 

“Wish fucking granted,” Minyard said, pointing at his deadpan face. “And what, exactly, were you planning on—” 

His eyes landed on the bag of shredded paper by Neil’s feet and he paused. Neil belatedly kicked it behind himself, but the damage was done. One of his best pranks, foiled before it had even really begun. 

“Alright, fine, you caught me,” Neil said, holding up his hands. “Are you gonna call the cops on us again?” 

Minyard, strangely enough, didn’t answer. 

“Neil,” Matt stage-whispered. “Neil, I think we should go.” 

“Neil?” Minyard repeated. He looked like he was in a daze. Neil briefly wondered if he might be on drugs, but he’d seemed perfectly normal up until a moment ago. 

“Yeah,” Neil said defiantly, tilting his chin up. “That’s my name. Got a problem with it?” 

“Yes,” Minyard said, then abruptly turned on his heels and marched back inside. The effect was slightly marred when he tripped over his own slippers and had to catch himself on the mailboxes. 

“Um,” Neil said. “That was weird.” 

“At least he didn’t call the cops,” Matt said, then held up his bag of paper. “We could still confetti his car.” 

“Yeah,” Neil said, although his heart wasn’t really in it anymore. “Let’s do that.” 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, you guys _really_ want to know what happens next! Here you go, hope you enjoy Andrew's reaction!
> 
> Thank you for all your comments, they make us all warm and glowy inside :)

Andrew didn’t remember returning to his apartment. His brain stalled when he saw the bag of paper confetti and shut down entirely when Josten’s—Neil’s, it was Neil, how could it be Neil?—spiky-haired friend called him by name. The next thing he knew he was back in his apartment, leaning heavily against his door and feeling short of breath, which he didn’t think was a side-effect from climbing the stairs.

His brain still hadn’t rebooted yet; all it was capable of doing was repeating Neil’s name like a siren: _Neil? Neil? Neil? Neil?_ King twisted around his ankles, purring, alarmed by his distress. He picked her up and buried his face against her furry body and tried to bring himself under some semblance of control.

Josten was Neil. He had to be. The paper confetti was too much of a coincidence and as his brain came back online it offered up other examples of similarities between Neil and Josten. Like the night Andrew had asked if Neil thought they should meet and the fire alarm had gone off. Neil had said that Sir—and holy shit, was Neil’s cat’s full name Sir McCatterson? What the hell? He didn’t even have the excuse that Nicky had named him—got loose shortly after Andrew had found Josten’s cat cowering under his car.

Or the fact that Neil had claimed he was really sick when he’d first tactlessly told Andrew he’d moved to Atlanta. Andrew had received that message right after an incredibly ill Josten had caught him tampering with his door lock.

Oh god, that meant that spiky-hair was Neil’s best friend Matt, who was Andrew’s online acquaintance. Andrew’s online acquaintance had _just seen him in his bathrobe_. His breathing rate picked up again. Okay, stop, he told himself. Calm down. That wasn’t what was important right now.

He moved away from the door to sink onto the couch. King, who had always been quite intuitive about his moods, didn’t move to dislodge herself. Instead, she stayed put and kept up her calming, rhythmic purring.

“Shit,” muttered Andrew. “Fucking shitty fucking fuck.” How could Neil be Josten? How could the universe be so damn cruel? After all of Andrew’s worry about meeting Neil, it turned out that they’d already unwittingly met multiple times and, oh yeah, funny story, Neil hated him.

He could feel hysterical laughter bubbling up inside him. To stave it off he groped blindly for his phone. He unlocked it without a clear plan, needing to call someone—Renee, his therapist, Nicky, anyone—but his fumbling fingers ended up opening up his Tumblr chat with Neil. There was a new message he hadn’t yet seen.

**okay, let’s meet**

Andrew wheezed and texted Renee, _come get me_. He needed to not be here right now, needed to be far away from Josten—fuck, _Neil_ —but he didn’t think it was safe for him to drive in his current state. Besides, his car was probably filled with confetti by now.

He put his head between his knees and breathed deeply, hoping Renee would hurry. He really needed his big sister.

* * *

Renee, to her immense credit, did not give Andrew a disappointed look and tell him off for keeping up with the stupid prank war.

She made him get dressed and drove them to the tea shop, where she picked up two cups of tea and some of their chocolate-infused tiramisu to go. They ended up in a park on the other side of town, Andrew with his feet up on the bench, the tiramisu between them.

“What tea is this?” Andrew asked, sniffing his cup. It didn’t seem to have any caffeine in it, which was probably a good thing considering how much caffeine was in the tiramisu already. He took another sip of the sweet and slightly spicy tea and hummed.

“ _Comfort_ ,” Renee said. “It’s a rooibos-based chai.”

Normally Andrew would have scoffed and said he didn’t need to be comforted, but he had just made Renee drive all the way across town because he was having a nervous breakdown, so he didn’t. He scooped up a spoonful of tiramisu and stuffed it in his mouth instead.

“How are you feeling now?” Renee asked him once the tiramisu was gone and they were down to the last dregs of their tea.

“Tired,” Andrew said truthfully.

“And about Neil?”

Andrew swallowed and swished the leftover liquid around in his cup.

“I don’t know.”

It was like his brain was still lagging behind, struggling to reconcile his Neil with Josten the irritating pest. The more he thought about it, the more similarities he could see, though. And if Andrew was honest—really honest—he had to admit that coming up with new pranks had also been just a little bit fun.

He groaned and rubbed his temples.

“I think I still like him,” he admitted, grimacing around the juvenile word.

“Well, that’s good,” Renee said. Andrew could hear the smile in her voice even though she did her best to look neutral. “That means you can work on making amends and eventually tell him.”

Andrew slid down the bench and let his heels drag through the dirt until he couldn’t slump any lower.

“It’s the right thing to do, Andrew,” Renee said. “You can’t keep it from him forever.”

Andrew’s mind briefly toyed with the idea of doing something so horrible that Josten— _Neil_ —would be forced to move out. Or maybe Andrew should move out. Go far, far away where no one had ever seen him in his bathrobe, delete his Tumblr and his AO3, forget about Neil Josten and start over.

“Andrew,” Renee warned. “I know what you’re thinking. Stop it. Do I need to remind you of that time you tried to run away from home and join a circus because you didn’t think you deserved us and were afraid you’d ruin the only good home you’d ever had?”

Andrew groaned louder.

“Is it so hard to believe that I just really wanted to become a strongman?”

“You were fourteen,” Renee pointed out ruthlessly. “And you were afraid of the horses.”

“You know, I could train King to perform tricks,” Andrew mused. “We could travel the world as a double act.”

“King Fluffkins And The Incredible Sulk?” Renee teased. “Sounds about right.”

“I’m not _sulking_.”

“Yes, you are. You’re sulking because Neil didn’t turn out to be exactly what you imagined him to be, and because you still want him and you think you messed up your chances with him and now you have to make an actual effort to win him over. You can’t keep him as this shiny online fantasy forever, Andrew. It’s not fair to him and it’s not fair to you.” She paused, then let the still lurking smile take over her face. “Besides, I think you have an advantage here.”

“And what’s that?”

“You already know Neil,” Renee said, gathering up their things. “And at the moment, he doesn’t know that you’re you.”

“So, what, are you suggesting I should woo Josten?” Andrew asked through gritted teeth.

Renee shrugged.

“Just be nice to him. Offer him a truce. You know what Neil likes, what he’s interested in. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

“You’re right,” Andrew said. “That does sound like effort.”

Renee poked his side lightning-quick with her plastic spoon, dodging easily when Andrew attempted to pour the last cold sip of his tea down her neck.

* * *

Andrew felt much calmer by the time Renee dropped him back at his apartment. He thought he was almost ready to deal with the fact that Neil was Josten… right after he slept for about forty hours. He still wasn’t prepared to see or interact with him yet so he made Renee clear the way up to his apartment before he entered the building. She rolled her eyes at him but did as he asked.

Before she left she clasped him by the shoulders and squeezed. “Get some sleep,” she advised. “You’ll feel better.”

He made sure that King’s food bowl was overflowing and he took a long, steaming hot shower to relax before climbing into bed. He’d thought that his churning mind would keep him awake, but all the stress and worry and recent lack of sleep caught up with him and he passed out almost immediately.

When he woke, it was twenty-two hours later and he felt lethargic and groggy from oversleeping. His panic from the day before was gone and replaced with crystal clear certainty on two points, namely:

  1. He wanted Neil in his life in some capacity, and,
  2. Neil hated him



Obviously those two points were contradictory, so he’d have to start working to change the second one. That reminded him he hadn’t yet responded to Neil’s Tumblr message. Ghosting Neil again wasn’t an option. Right now Neil liked Andrew and hated his neighbour; Andrew wanted to changed the latter, not the former.

He fiddled with his phone, trying to figure out how to properly word his response. Obviously they couldn’t meet now, not until he’d proved to Neil that he wasn’t a horrible person. In retrospect he was probably lucky that he’d figured out who Neil was before they’d met; from what Andrew knew of Neil’s upbringing and personality he was someone who ran away from his troubles. He would have disappeared and Andrew would have never seen him again if they’d gone through with their meeting (not that Andrew didn’t understand the reaction—he’d seriously considered leaving town).

Finally he settled on, _hey, i’m back. crash was worse than usual_

As he waited for Neil’s reply he started making a cup of tea and searching his mostly-empty fridge for something to eat.

**you okay?** Neil sent, once Andrew had decided on a sad breakfast of cheddar cheese. He didn’t even have any crackers to go with it. He really needed to make a grocery run.

_some stuff came up i wasn’t expecting_ , Andrew replied truthfully. _i won’t be able to meet you until i deal with it_

**oh** , was the message that returned after a long pause.

_i want to_ , wrote Andrew, _i just have to get my shit in order first_

**take as long as you need** , answered Neil, **at least you didn’t ghost me this time**

They chatted for a bit. Andrew was very careful not to give away any hints to his identity which had the result of making his messages awkward and stilted. He sighed, signed off, and collapsed on his couch, staring at the ceiling. He didn’t have the first clue how to make Neil like him. He had no idea how he got Neil to like him online in the first place. Andrew wasn’t an incredibly likeable person and he didn’t know how to make himself into one.

His spiral into self-pity was interrupted by his door buzzer. He stared at it for several moments, not expecting anyone, before heaving himself off his couch to answer it.

“Yes?”

“It’s Nicky!” came the reply.

“Why are you here?” asked Andrew warily. Nicky knew better than to show up unannounced.

“Renee says you’re courting and I’m here to help.”

“No. Go away.”

“I brought Thai food for lunch!” said Nicky quickly before Andrew could release the intercom.

Andrew closed his eyes and rested his head against his wall, annoyed at his predictability and weakness. “Did you get mango sticky rice?” he finally asked.

“Sure did!”

He sighed and let Nicky up. His breakfast of cheese had not been very satisfying.

Nicky bustled into his apartment happily, carrying a bunch of supplies as well as the Thai takeout. Andrew relieved him of the food and placed it on his table, stuffing his face with Pad Thai and curry while watching Nicky set up a small white board in his living room.

“What are you doing?” he asked, once his curiosity got the better of him. He hadn’t wanted to give in and give his cousin any legitimacy.

“I hear you’re wooing your hot neighbour,” said Nicky, “and, no offense, but you’re terrible at flirting. I’m here to give you tips.”

“Don’t you have a job?”

Nicky gave him a strange look. “It’s Sunday.”

Andrew shrugged. “I work from home; I don’t need to know which day of the week it is.”

“Well, it’s Sunday and I have a couple of free hours to devote solely to you.”

“It’s kind of sad that you have nothing better to do than help me seduce my asshole neighbour.”

“Okay!” said Nicky, clapping his hands together. “Lesson one: compliments!”

Andrew let Nicky prattle on as it clearly made him happy. He didn’t listen much to what he was saying but he’d learned that Nicky didn’t need much input from him when he was on a roll. Nicky had always been like that. They’d met when Andrew was fifteen and Nicky was eighteen; Nicky’s aunt, who was the twins’ birth mother, had recently died and Nicky had found evidence of the twins’ existence when helping his parents clean out her apartment. He’d put a lot of time and effort into tracking down his cousins, desperate for some familial connection other than his homophobic parents. When he had, Stephanie encouraged the twins to spend time with him and before long he’d become another member of their family.

Nicky’s lecture was interrupted by a knock on Andrew’s door. Andrew eyed it suspiciously as Nicky went to check the peephole, wondering why he was so popular today.

“It’s him!” Nicky hissed gleefully. “Here’s your chance to try out a compliment!”

Andrew was already shaking his head, his brain slowly filling with static again. He wasn’t ready to come face to face with Neil. Nicky didn’t care, dragging him over to the door and opening it while remaining behind it, out of Neil's view.

Andrew stared, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. It hadn’t really occurred to him yet that this familiar face was _Neil’s_. Those distinctive blue eyes belonged to Neil, the smattering of freckles were Neil’s, the scar that added character was Neil’s. He stood there, unable to think of anything to say, letting his eyes catalogue Neil’s face. He was really attractive, the liar. He could distinctly remember Neil once referring to himself as _painfully average-looking_.

Neil shifted uncomfortably. “Here,” he said, shoving Andrew’s cat carrier into his unresisting arms. “Thanks for finding him,” he muttered, not making eye contact and running a hand through his hair to mess it up even more than it already was. He’d recently showered, his hair still damp and curling wildly; it looked inviting and the colour was slightly darker than usual. Andrew wanted to reach out and touch it, to smooth it out properly and see if it was as soft as he imagined. Instead he tightened his hold on the cat carrier.

Nicky was pantomiming from where he was blocked from Neil's sight by the door, mouthing the word _compliment_ over and over.

“You should shower more,” Andrew blurted. Nicky face-palmed.

Neil opened and closed his mouth, completely nonplussed. He sighed and shook his head, before turning away and disappearing back into his own apartment.

“Well,” said Nicky, gently closing the door and relieving Andrew of the cat carrier he was now holding in a death grip, “I can see this is going to take more work than I thought.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will there ever be a line as iconic as andrew telling neil to shower more in the last chapter? who knows... better read this one to find out! :D

There was a bouquet of flowers on Neil’s doormat. 

Neil blinked down at it and cautiously nudged it with his foot. Nothing awful happened. There was no card or note as far as he could see, and the flowers must have been there for a while because the heads were drooping pathetically when he picked them up, pinched between index finger and thumb, still wary about traps. 

He pulled out his phone and called Matt. 

“It’s probably just another one of Minyard’s pranks,” he said after explaining the situation. “I just can’t figure out how a bunch of limp roses are going to attack me. Do you think they have ants hidden in them?” 

He peered at the closest drooping flower but didn’t spot any insects. Mostly it just looked sad. 

“Could it be a secret admirer?” Matt asked. “Maybe someone from work?” 

Neil snorted so hard one of the roses lost a few petals. 

“All of my colleagues are straight, married, about to get married, have kids or are about to have kids. And most of them are a lot older than me, so no.” 

“I suppose it’s possible the flowers were meant for someone else, but the delivery person dropped them off outside the wrong door,” Matt mused. “You could ask around.” 

“Are you suggesting I talk to my neighbours?” Neil exclaimed, scandalised, and glanced at Minyard’s door. Surely no one in their right mind would send this guy _flowers_. It was more likely they were for Mrs O’Malley. Even if they had been meant for Minyard, he would probably have burned them in the parking lot while laughing evilly. 

“Might be a good way to meet people who are actually nice. Unlike Minyard.” 

The door across the hall opened as if Minyard had heard his name being invoked. He was dressed very smartly for a Monday night and his gaze dropped immediately to the wilted flowers that Neil was still holding away from his body, like a bomb that might go off at any moment. 

Neil shook them at him and asked, “Are these from you?” 

Something calculating flitted across Minyard’s face. 

“What if they are?” 

Neil rolled his eyes. 

“Matt, I’m just gonna toss these things, I’ll call you back later. I’m not risking an ant invasion. Yeah, bye.” 

* * *

The week just got weirder with every day that passed. 

On Tuesday, he met Minyard in the parking lot as he was cleaning the last of the shredded paper out of his car. Minyard stared at his chest for a long moment and mumbled, “Nice shirt,” which alerted Neil to the fact that he’d spilled yoghurt on his tie. Minyard’s lacklustre attempt at mocking him for it only resulted in Neil going back inside to change his tie before anyone else noticed, and Neil wondered if Minyard was feeling under the weather or if he was just getting bored of their game. 

At lunch, a pizza with his favourite toppings got delivered to him at his office even though Neil most definitely hadn’t ordered any. He nearly got in trouble for it and lost so much time over the whole confusion that he only just managed to grab an unappealing sandwich from the crowded coffee shop across the street. 

On Wednesday, he found Minyard elbow-deep in his car. He claimed he was fixing something, which Neil didn’t believe for a second. He had to take the thing to the workshop again soon anyway, though, so he asked Matt to accompany him in his own car just in case anything happened on the way there. Minyard must not have had time to implement his plan because Neil’s car turned out to be fine—or, as the mechanic put it, an utter piece of crap that should have been scrapped about a decade ago but was somehow still running on sheer stubbornness alone. Neil could relate to that a little bit. 

On Thursday, Minyard was conspicuously absent and Neil had a field day rigging his door to shower him in glitter the moment he opened it. He hummed to himself and imagined Minyard in the shower, trying desperately to scrub the stuff out of every orifice. 

On second thought, maybe imagining Minyard in the shower wasn’t Neil’s brightest idea. 

By Friday he was starting to get a little worried about Andrew’s prolonged silences online. He’d told Neil he had shit to deal with and he still replied every once in a while when Neil sent him cat posts, but he was uncharacteristically reticent. Meanwhile, Minyard had shoved a handful of cat toys in his arms on his way past this morning and disappeared without a word, and Neil was still trying to figure out how he’d tampered with them. In the end he threw them away, too. 

On Saturday, Neil woke up shivering. Further examination revealed that the power was out in his apartment. He opened his door to investigate, and sure enough none of the hallway lights were on. Minyard came out of his apartment, looking cozy in an oversized sweater, and stopped short when he saw Neil in his pyjamas. 

“How’d you manage this, asshole?” demanded Neil. 

Minyard didn’t reply at first, his gaze stuck on Neil’s threadbare shirt. Neil was sure that he was going to comment on it being pink—which was Minyard’s fault in the first place—but instead what he said was, “You look cold,” in a slightly strangled voice. 

Neil looked down and then crossed his arms self-consciously across his chest. “I am. Thanks to you shutting off the heat in November.” 

“This isn’t my fault. Power’s off to the entire building,” said Minyard. 

“Well, fuck,” sighed Neil. He couldn’t even leave for somewhere warmer because he was expecting a delivery of a new couch. Dan had forced him to purchase it because _you’re not a college student anymore, your furniture shouldn’t come from beside a curb_. He turned and went back into his apartment, slamming the door behind him. Even though Minyard claimed he hadn’t done anything, Neil didn’t give him the benefit of the doubt. 

Neil put on a hoodie and wrapped himself in a blanket, cuddling Sir close to him to steal his warmth. It seemed to take forever, but finally the delivery people arrived. When he opened his door to let them in, he found a takeaway cup of tea on his welcome mat. Neil practically whimpered, wrapping his freezing hands around the cup to warm them up. The writing on the outside indicated it was from a tea shop Neil had heard of but had never visited. It was a tea blend called _Warmth_. 

He wasn’t stupid enough to actually drink a suspicious beverage he found—Minyard was probably trying to poison him—but he inhaled it deeply, wishing he could. It smelled of cinnamon and other spices that seemed to warm him up from the inside. He wondered what Minyard was playing at. 

On Sunday, Neil was returning to his apartment with Matt and Dan in tow after brunch. Dan had insisted on “visiting” Neil’s new couch, which was apparently something adults did. Coming out of the stairwell, they came across Minyard placing an edible arrangement on Neil’s welcome mat. When he caught sight of them, he shoved the basket into Neil’s arms and stalked away. 

Neil’s mouth watered as he looked at all the delicious fruit. “Wait,” he called. 

Minyard turned slowly and raised an expectant eyebrow, flicking his eyes briefly over Neil’s shoulder to Matt and Dan. Neil tried to shove the arrangement back at him. “Stop trying to poison me,” he said. 

Minyard took a step forward, selected a piece of pineapple and ate it, licking the juice from his lips. “Happy now?” 

Neil felt unexpectedly warm and his retort flew out of his head. Apparently satisfied, Minyard retreated to his apartment, leaving Neil staring at the apparent gift. What the hell was happening? 

“Do you think I broke him?” Neil asked, once inside his apartment. 

Matt was circling the edible arrangement and looking at it from all angles. 

“What do you mean?” asked Dan, taking a strawberry and eating it despite the danger. “Oh, hush,” she said at Neil’s squawk of alarm. 

“You can’t trust anything he’s touched. He’s been acting extra strange ever since I filled his car with confetti. Do you think I finally broke him?” 

“Maybe,” said Matt thoughtfully. “Maybe he conceded your prank war and this is your reward.” 

“Or maybe he’s trying to seduce you,” suggested Dan, her voice full of suppressed laughter. 

“No, he’s messing with me and I just can’t figure out how.” 

“Maybe that’s his game,” said Matt, pointing at him. “Driving you to distraction trying to figure out what he’s up to.” 

“You are twitchier now than when he was regularly successfully pranking you,” said Dan thoughtfully. “Diabolical!” 

“Stop being impressed by him,” complained Neil. “Between this and the thing with Andrew…” 

“Wait, what thing with Andrew?” asked Matt. 

Neil sighed. “He doesn’t want to meet me anymore. Or he can’t, I don’t know exactly. I think he’s blowing me off.” 

“It’s probably just your imagination,” said Dan. 

“Give him time,” said Matt, clapping him on the shoulder. “It’ll happen eventually.” 

“That’s just it,” said Neil, “every time we take a step closer to actually meeting something happens to derail it. It’s like the universe doesn’t want us to meet.” 

“Who knows?” said Dan. “Maybe you’ve already run into each other without realizing it.” 

Neil shivered away the feeling of phantom eyes on him. “The chances of that are astronomically low,” he said decisively. “Now, what am I going to do about Minyard?” 

* * *

To Neil’s immense relief, Minyard was back to his old crotchety self on Monday. Neil found him in the parking lot, ranting to some poor soul on the phone. He approached warily, but Minyard barely spared him a glance. Neil had to bend down and re-tie his shoelaces, so he couldn’t help but overhear some of Minyard’s conversation. 

“No, you’re avoiding me is what. I thought we were going Christmas shopping. You’re the one who wanted to get it done early. I took time off and everything.” 

Somehow, Neil couldn’t imagine Minyard going Christmas shopping. He peered around his car, but Minyard still wasn’t paying him any attention. Had he gotten his hair cut? It looked different. Maybe it was just the fact that he wasn’t wearing black for once. 

“You’re such a dick sometimes,” Minyard growled into his phone. “Can’t believe you’re ditching me. Happy fucking birthday to you, too.” 

He hung up, and Neil couldn’t resist doing a little slow clap. 

“Good job ruining someone’s birthday. What’s next on the agenda, making babies cry? Kicking puppies?” 

Minyard stared at him, looking more irritated than he normally did, and flipped him off. “Go die in a fire.” 

“Real original,” taunted Neil. “You’ve got a little glitter there.” He indicated a spot behind Minyard’s left ear where he’d caught sight of a sparkle. 

“Oh, fuck you,” growled Minyard, angrily scrubbing the side of his head. “You know my girlfriend thought I was cheating on her because of all the goddamn glitter?” 

That gave Neil pause; he couldn’t imagine Minyard having a girlfriend. It seemed fundamentally wrong for some reason he couldn’t put his finger on. He wondered if it was the white-and-rainbow-haired woman he’d glimpsed visiting his apartment a couple times. 

“I can’t believe you conned some poor woman into dating you,” said Neil. 

“Look who’s talking,” Minyard shot back. He gave Neil a once over that made him feel two inches tall and ended with a contemptuous sneer at the scar on his face. “Who’d ever want you?” 

It shouldn’t have stung, it was just Minyard being nasty in response to Neil’s own nastiness but Neil still had to concede that Minyard had scored a hit. Seemingly happy with having the last word, Minyard stomped away from the parking lot leaving his car behind. Neil shook it off and headed to his own car, already late for work. 

Because his Monday wasn’t already bad enough, he found his manager was away upon arriving at work. Standing in for her was the most anal rule-stickler in the department, who always spoke to Neil as if he was a child. He gave Neil a reprimand and a half-hour lecture about the importance of showing up to work on time, which didn’t help Neil’s already black mood. To make things worse he also caught Neil using the company scanner to digitize his birthday present for Andrew during his lunch break, leading to a second reprimand and another lecture about not using company assets for personal uses. 

Neil could feel his temper getting close to boiling over, made worse by the fact that Mr. Rule-Stickler was technically not his superior. He just acted like it because he was older than Neil and resented the fact that Neil was already better at his job than he was. He barely managed to get through the day keeping a lid on his temper; going off at work was not an option if he wanted to remain employed. 

At least he’d been able to complete his scan of the fanart he’d made for Andrew’s birthday. It was of a scene from his most recent fic—the one that Neil had betaed for him. He’d decided to draw a pivotal scene that they’d spent a lot of time discussing, one important to both of them. Neil had put more effort into it than he usually did with his fanart, spending the last few weeks perfecting it before Andrew’s birthday rolled around. 

It struck him as odd that Minyard also had a friend whose birthday was today; did he know Andrew? It seemed unlikely. Andrew hadn’t ever mentioned having lots of friends and he certainly didn’t have the patience to put up with a piece of work like Minyard. 

By the time Neil got home he was ready to change into comfortable clothes and spend the evening relaxing to put the whole day behind him. He posted his art while waiting for his leftover noodles to heat up in the microwave, adding a caption that read, _for @sundaeblues whose new fic y’all should be reading!_ In their private chat, he added, _happy birthday_. 

He changed into sweats and settled on his couch, flipping on the television for background noise. Scrolling through his dashboard, he watched his likes and reblog notifications rise, looking to see if Andrew paid any attention. In the meantime, he answered a couple asks and messaged a few of his friends. Finally, he saw Andrew’s reblog, complete with praise in the tags. Almost simultaneously he received a new message. 

**thank you. your art means a lot**

_you’re welcome_ , replied Neil. _how was your day?_

**pretty normal. had a stupid argument with twin. how about you?**

_terrible_ , wrote Neil. _boss was away so stick-up-his-ass (suha, for short) was in charge, chewed me out for being late and using the scanner_

**that sucks** , replied Andrew. 

_and my neighbour was an asshole, but that’s nothing new_ , continued Neil. _i don’t think i’ve told you about my awful neighbour, have i? oh my god, andrew, you would *hate* him_

There was a conspicuously long pause before Andrew responded, **listen, i’ve got to go. sister is taking me out for birthday dessert. talk soon**

Neil went cold. No matter what Dan said, it wasn’t his imagination. Andrew was definitely blowing him off. He was clearly distancing himself from Neil. 

_Who’d ever want you?_ Minyard’s snide words echoed through his head from earlier in the day. 

_Everyone else will leave you_ , whispered his mother’s frantic voice. 

_You’re just not worth it_ , taunted the combined voices of several exes. 

He closed his eyes and tried to drown out the memories. They weren’t right, he reminded himself. He was fine just the way he was and if Andrew wanted to give up on him before he even met him face to face, well, he could go suck a big bag of dicks. 

Newly resolved, he returned to his dashboard and incited several arguments to vent his anger. It was a couple hours later that there was a shuffling sound at his door. Groaning, he heaved himself off the couch, looking forward to giving Minyard a piece of his mind. 

Opening his door, he found a plastic bag hanging from his door handle. He cautiously peered inside, only to find it filled with clothes. Not the type of clothes he usually wore around his place but much nicer. The clothes were obviously new and the tags indicated they were all his size. The selection looked similar to pictures of clothing Allison had sent him when he was trying to figure out what to wear for his meet-up with Andrew; he realized with a pang that meeting would never happen now. 

It was the last straw; his temper boiled over. He stomped to Minyard’s apartment and pounded on the door. 

Minyard opened it warily. 

“No,” said Neil, the word spilling out of his mouth before he knew what he was going to say. 

“No?” repeated Minyard. 

“No more,” said Neil. “I don’t know what you did to these clothes—maybe they’re covered in itching powder, or maybe you just want to make fun of my usual clothes… I know I’m unattractive, you don’t have to rub it in.” 

Minyard had the gall to look incredulous. “I don’t think—” 

“You made it very clear what you think of me this morning,” snapped Neil. 

Minyard’s face went momentarily confused before turning completely blank. 

“I’m done, okay?” continued Neil. “This prank war was—well, not fun—diverting, maybe, but it has reached its natural conclusion. I call a truce. Let’s go back to acting like normal neighbours by ignoring each other and not interacting.” He turned to leave. 

“Neil—” Minyard started to say. 

“Please just leave me alone,” said Neil, his voice breaking. 

Minyard swallowed, nodded once, and closed his door with a snap, leaving Neil by himself in the hallway feeling absurdly as if he’d just lost something. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There, there, everyone. We know the end of last chapter was slightly upsetting, but things are looking up!

It was official: Neil hated Andrew.

All of Nicky’s and Renee’s combined efforts at helping Andrew woo him had failed. Andrew nearly called Aaron in a last-ditch attempt before remembering the argument they’d had that morning and, worse, the fact that Aaron had been in the right, which meant Andrew first had to make it up to him before he could ask any more favours of his twin. Besides, it sounded like Aaron had had an unpleasant run-in with Neil that morning when Aaron was meant to pick Andrew up for their customary not-birthday-breakfast. He’d already been pissed about the glitter, which really hadn’t been Andrew’s fault—it was just bad luck on Aaron’s part that he’d happened to walk through the door first, just after Neil had so skilfully rigged it to spew glitter at the next person to open it.

No, telling Aaron about Neil and Josten being the same person could wait. Possibly forever, judging by the way things were going.

He sighed and turned his face into his pillow. If only he could talk to Neil online—but what was even the point, if real life Neil hated his guts? It would only end in disappointment for Neil and humiliation for Andrew.

Nevertheless, he took out his phone. Neil’s fanart had caused a new influx of comments on his most recent fic and Andrew looked at it again, noticing yet another detail he’d missed earlier. They were things no one else would probably pick up on, but which he and Neil had discussed when Neil had been beta reading for him. His throat burned a little as he swallowed, which had nothing to do with the art—he’d just had too much to eat today. Renee had taken him to a dessert-only buffet since he’d missed breakfast that morning. If someone had asked Andrew yesterday if there was such a thing as too much when it came to dessert, Andrew would have replied with an emphatic no. Now he had to concede that maybe there _was_ a limit, even for him.

He opened his chat with Neil and slowly scrolled through the last few weeks’ worth of conversation. A few things jumped out at him that would have been useful to know for potential wooing attempts. Neil had mentioned wanting to go see the new Pokémon movie with Matt but apparently they hadn’t gotten around to it yet. Then there was the day they’d talked about Lucy late into the night and Neil had vehemently defended her even when Andrew kept pointing out her flaws. A month ago, they’d discussed comic books and Neil had made a top ten of his all-time favourite comic book heroes. It was all right there, if only Andrew had thought to look.

Sleep wouldn’t come that night. Andrew finally heaved himself out of bed in the early hours of the morning, sluggish grey light seeping into the room like spilled porridge. He made a cup of the tea Renee had bought him for his birthday, a new blend called _Brace_. It was a green tea with matcha and lemon, just the right thing to clear the cobwebs from his mind.

Then he opened his laptop and bought two tickets for Detective Pikachu, printed them out and folded them up neatly. He nearly put them in an envelope before deciding that was overkill. Choosing the best seats took him so much time that he didn’t manage to change out of his pyjamas before he heard Neil’s apartment door open, but he didn’t want to wait around until Neil was back from work and lose his nerve, so he ran outside as he was. Neil had seen him in his bathrobe before, after all.

“Josten!”

Neil was almost by the staircase. He turned warily, looking tired and a little bit rumpled, his hair askew like he’d overslept and only combed it halfway. Andrew lifted his hands defensively at the scowl on his face.

“Not a prank,” he swore. “You called a truce, remember?”

“I also remember saying something about ignoring each other from now on,” Neil said coldly. “And yet here you are.”

Andrew tried to work out what to say—damn it, he should have waited after all. His brain was still half asleep.

“Peace offering,” he finally blurted out, just as Neil was about to walk down the stairs. “My brother gave me these, but I have a… thing. On Friday. Can’t go. Do you? Want to?”

He held out the tickets even though Neil was already all the way down the hall. Neil raised an eyebrow, sighed when Andrew stubbornly continued to hold out the tickets, and hitched his bag higher on his shoulder before walking back.

“What is it?”

Andrew’s hands felt abruptly sweaty as Neil took the tickets from him. He tried to surreptitiously wipe them on his bathrobe, which he now noticed had a smear of chocolate over the crotch area where he’d fallen asleep on a sadly half-eaten Snickers bar last week.

“Oh,” Neil said, still frowning, though this time a little wistfully. “I… are you sure? Why not ask your girlfriend?”

Andrew’s mind stuttered to a halt, then went into hysterical overdrive for a few seconds.

“Renee is not my girlfriend,” he managed to force out at last. Neil looked at him weirdly, then dropped his gaze back to the tickets and shrugged.

“If you really don’t want them, I guess I can take them off your hands. How much do you want for them?”

“Nothing,” Andrew said, perhaps a little too quickly.

“Right,” Neil said slowly. “Okay, now I really can’t see how you’d turn free cinema tickets into a prank.”

“Not a prank,” Andrew repeated. “Just take the damn things.”

Neil took the damn things, though not without another suspicious examination of them. Andrew ended up closing his door in his face because he didn’t actually want Neil to be late for work and get in trouble again, but at least he was now responsible for Neil finally seeing the movie he’d been wanting to watch.

Even if Andrew wouldn’t be there to accompany him.

* * *

The next morning, Neil’s door slammed much earlier than usual. Andrew was already awake, having abruptly woken up at 3am with a new idea for a fic. He’d been making a plot outline and doing cursory research for two hours already. The sound of Neil’s door brought Andrew back to awareness. He stretched the kink out of his neck and got up to feed King and make himself a cup of tea.

His tea was cold and he was back to taking notes from a Wikipedia article when there was rapid knocking on his door. He looked down at himself, decided _fuck it_ —at least he’d washed his bathrobe after the debacle the day before—got up, and answered the door. It was Neil, wearing form-fitting running pants that left absolutely nothing to the imagination and breathing heavily, his face flushed and sweaty. Andrew’s brain short-circuited.

It took him several moments to collect himself enough to notice that Neil was holding something out to him, a defiant look on his face. Andrew took the paper bag from him and glanced inside, where there were four cinnamon raisin bagels from the nearby market. He looked back at Neil, unsure what to say.

“They’re not poisoned,” huffed Neil. “Truce, remember? As payment for the tickets.”

Andrew managed to unstick his tongue from the top of his mouth. “I said you didn’t owe me anything.”

“I know,” said Neil, shrugging one shoulder, “but it felt weird. This way we’re even.”

Andrew nodded slowly. That tracked with what he knew of Neil who, much like Andrew himself, appreciated reciprocity. He retreated back into his apartment with the bagels, trying not to read too much into the fact that Neil had clearly made a special trip to get them for him. Neil had bought him a gift! And they’d had a non-hostile interaction. His idea with the movie tickets had worked better than he’d expected. He now had to build on that semi-success.

He was embarrassed to admit (not that he ever would admit it. To anyone. Ever) that his next plan for convincing Neil not to hate him came from one of the manuscripts he was editing. Wymack mainly gave him LGBT books to edit but the sheer number of heterosexual romance novels meant that he always got a couple of them mixed in his editing pile. He paid them little mind—he nitpicked them for terrible grammar and typos and plot holes but he tried not to internalize the syrupy romance or the fantasy sex scenes—but he had noticed that a disproportionately large number of the plucky female heroines were incredibly clumsy. This led to numerous meet-cutes and dropping of plot-important items. It gave him an idea.

It took careful timing (and a tiny bit of stalking) but he managed to precisely time a stumble out of the elevator just as Neil was checking his mailbox. Unfortunately, Andrew hadn’t actually practiced falling in the dainty way that the women in romances always seemed to tumble and he went down like a sack of bricks, slamming his chin painfully on the lobby floor.

He heard Neil snort and when he looked up he was clearly trying not to laugh. Andrew could feel himself going red and cursed his stupid genes. He’d seen what it looked like when Aaron went beet-red like this. It wasn’t a good look on them.

He stood quickly and brushed himself off. “Can you pass me my book?” he asked stiffly, indicating the third book in the AFTC series that he’d managed to slide over to Neil when he fell.

Neil scoffed and bent down to pick up the book, pausing momentarily when he saw the cover.

“Are you,” he said, clearing his throat while handing the book over, “are you enjoying the series?”

“Yes,” said Andrew instantly. “I’ve read it before but I recently had the urge to reread it.”

“Oh,” said Neil. “I, uh.” His fingers twitched and his eyes darted between Andrew and the book. Andrew could practically see him holding himself back from becoming too enthusiastic. “I like those books. Who’s your favourite character?”

Andrew opened his mouth to automatically reply Zoe like he always did when asked before closing it and shaking his head. “Lucy, actually,” he said, feeling a little like he was exposing a nerve. He’d never even admitted this to Neil online. “I appreciate how active she is in her own recovery, especially because everyone keeps acting like she’s irredeemable and not worth it.”

“Yeah,” agreed Neil, taking a step closer. “And I like how her and Zoe’s relationship isn’t presented as a cure for their mental illnesses.”

Andrew nodded and mentioned another facet of Lucy’s character that resonated with him. Neil took the ball and ran with it and before Andrew knew it half an hour had passed and Neil was pulling back with a sheepish expression.

“I should let you go,” he said, heading toward the stairs. “It was… surprisingly not awful speaking with you.” He grinned at Andrew. It was the first real smile that Andrew had ever seen on his face. He’d seen his self-satisfied smirk, he’d seen him laugh incredulously, he’d seen him smile sharply, but he’d never seen his face crease in actual happiness, easy and genuine. It felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room.

“Yeah,” agreed Andrew breathlessly.

* * *

“We are doing a great job at the whole ignoring each other thing,” Andrew greeted Neil when he knocked on Andrew’s door on Sunday night. Neil looked a little frazzled and sheepish, and he was wearing a bright orange apron that clashed horribly with his—well, everything.

“Can I borrow a cup of sugar? I was going to ask Mrs O’Malley but she’s fucking terrifying.”

Andrew deliberately ignored the eyesore that was Neil’s apron. At least _he_ wasn’t in his bathrobe for once, and had had the foresight to pull the Captain Marvel t-shirt that he’d borrowed from Renee on over his pyjamas before opening the door.

“Why?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe in a pose that hopefully displayed the t-shirt nicely. Carol Danvers had definitely been on Neil’s list of favourite superheroes, and he could see Neil’s mouth quirk up momentarily when his eyes dropped down to the print.

“To bake cookies,” Neil said. “I have a work thing tomorrow. I promise I won’t pour the sugar into your gas tank or something.”

“Can you blame me for being suspicious? After everything you’ve done to my poor car?” Andrew grumbled.

“I’ll bring over a few cookies for you,” Neil bartered.

“Hmm,” Andrew hummed. “What kind of cookies? You’re not going to hide raisins in them and pretend they’re chocolate chips, are you?”

“No,” Neil huffed. “Macadamia and white chocolate. I got the recipe from my friend Matt, he’s an amazing baker.”

“Can _you_ bake, though?”

“Yes!” Neil snapped, frustrated. “You can watch me if you don’t believe me.”

“Okay,” Andrew said, leaving a dumbfounded Neil to grab some sugar from his kitchen before herding him over to his apartment. “Come on, those cookies aren’t going to bake themselves.”

For all of their pranks, Andrew had never actually been inside Neil’s apartment. He greeted the fat orange cat that waddled out to investigate him with a nod and a stiff, “McCatterson,” and crouched down to let him sniff his hand and the bag of sugar. Sir seemed to recognise him from the night of his little escapade and walked off to wind around Neil’s legs and do his best to trip him up on the way to the kitchen.

Neil’s apartment was surprisingly clutter-free, though what little there was had still somehow managed to make a mess of the entire place. He only had a single kitchen chair, but there were several pairs of expensive running shoes strewn about by the front door. The bookshelf was empty, with a few stacks of books and comic books sitting on the floor as if Neil had started unpacking them after his move and then wandered away. Andrew spotted Neil’s copies of the AFTC books in place of honor on the coffee table, looking battered like he’d either bought them second hand or carried them around with him a lot. Cat toys were scattered everywhere. A single photograph showing Neil with Matt and a pretty, fierce-looking woman had been put into a frame but never hung.

“Are you done snooping or would you like a tour of my bedroom as well?” Neil asked dryly, making a grab for the sugar that Andrew was still holding. Andrew’s hand twitched away on instinct and he forced himself to hold still and let Neil take it from him.

“Is your bedroom your evil villain lair where you come up with new ways to irritate me?”

“No,” Neil said, then smirked over his shoulder at him. “But it does have some spiders.”

“Pass.”

“Sure,” Neil grinned. “If you’re going to stick around, you might as well make yourself useful and help me bake these cookies.”

Something soft and neon orange hit Andrew in the face. It was another apron—Andrew saw that both this one and Neil’s had “Orange you glad we’re friends” printed on the front.

“I refuse to wear that.”

Neil, who had been mixing the sugar into the cookie dough, flicked his dough-covered fingers at him. Andrew just about managed to avoid getting dough on Captain Marvel’s face and was pleased with his reflexes for all of ten seconds, before a white chocolate chip hit him square on the nose.

“If you keep that up, you won’t have any cookies left for work,” he said, putting on his best disdainful face. It was hard when he could still feel the damp spot where the chocolate chip had bounced off his skin. Sir, the lazy bastard, had watched it skitter under the fridge without batting an eye. He was lying on the (frankly offensive) folding table that served as Neil’s kitchen table, legs tucked underneath him making a loaf-like shape. Andrew slowly reached out a fingertip and curled it under the cat’s chin, surprised when Sir leaned into the touch.

“My cat is much more weaponised than yours,” he said, watching in fascination as Sir rubbed his head against Andrew’s palm. It had taken months for King to warm up to him when he’d first got her. She was comfortable with him now, but she still didn’t like to be touched except on her own terms and was extremely wary and jumpy when other people came over, even Andrew’s family.

To be fair, Nicky was very loud.

Neil turned around from where he was scooping dough onto a baking sheet and frowned.

“He isn’t usually this much of a pushover.”

“Uh huh,” Andrew said doubtfully. Sir was purring and had turned on his back, exposing his fluffy white belly to Andrew. He cautiously rubbed his stomach—touching King’s exposed belly was asking for his hand to be trapped by her dagger claws and then repeatedly bitten—but Sir’s only reaction was to stretch out to give him better access.

“Seriously, are you covered in catnip or something?” asked Neil, shaking his head.

“Mrrp?” said Sir plaintively when Andrew lifted his hand. He rolled over and shoved his head into Andrew’s palm again, angling so Andrew could scratch behind his ears.

“Maybe you’re not giving him enough attention?” suggested Andrew.

Neil glared in response. “I give him tonnes of attention. Sir’s just a whore for extra scritches.”

“Sir?” asked Andrew lightly, glad that Neil had brought it up before Andrew accidentally used his name.

Neil turned back to the baking sheet. Andrew could tell that he was blushing, a dainty rose colour dusting across his cheekbones. It was adorable and honestly _fuck Neil_ for being attractive while blushing. It wasn’t fair that _he_ didn’t turn into a horrible tomato/gremlin hybrid every time he was embarrassed.

“Sir Fat Cat McCatterson, if we’re being precise,” said Neil, clearing his throat.

Andrew was momentarily speechless. That was even worse than he’d known. “...Why?” he managed.

Neil’s glare was less playful and more hostile this time. Andrew backtracked. “K—” he cut himself off with a hacking cough. He couldn’t believe he’d almost said King’s name. Neil looked briefly alarmed—probably because it momentarily looked like someone he hated was about to asphyxiate in his apartment and there was no way he wasn’t going to be a suspect in Andrew’s untimely death—until Andrew brought his coughing under control.

He tried again, “My cat’s name is stupid because my family thought it was funny, what’s your excuse?”

“Sir’s name isn’t dumb.”

“It’s not… _not_ dumb,” said Andrew carefully.

Neil huffed, although he sounded more amused than offended. “Fine, yes, it’s stupid. But it’s the name he was given at the shelter and it kind of suits him, doesn’t it?”

Andrew looked down at Sir who was back to rolling around on the table, purring loudly.

“What’s your cat’s name?” asked Neil, opening the oven and shoving the baking sheet in.

“Hmm?” said Andrew, pretending to be so absorbed in petting Sir he hadn’t heard the question. He hadn’t meant to mention the name Nicky had saddled his cat with, especially not in a way that would pique Neil’s curiosity.

“Your cat’s stupid name?” said Neil. “What is it?”

“Oh,” said Andrew, self-consciously rubbing the back of his neck. “That. It’s Fluffkins.”

Neil stared at him for a couple beats before bursting into laughter.

* * *

Later that evening, Andrew—feeling very self-satisfied from a successful encounter with Neil that had netted him several unexpectedly delicious cookies—was perusing his and Neil’s chat history for more ideas on how to endear himself to Neil. Their online interactions had been strained recently, especially since Andrew’s birthday. It was as if Neil was distancing himself.

Andrew was worried. He was putting off meeting in real life until Neil actually liked the real him but if Neil kept pulling back then there’d never be a reason for them to meet. He could see that his window for this to work out as he hoped was rapidly shrinking; he had limited time before Neil gave up on Andrew entirely. He had to set a date for them to meet, and soon.

He’d made more progress with Neil in the past week than he’d ever expected. If he could keep it up for a couple more weeks then Neil wouldn’t be upset to find out that he was Andrew. He might not be thrilled but at least he wouldn’t think it was a cruel prank.

_hey_ , wrote Andrew after several minutes deliberation, _i’m doing better and am ready to meet irl. i won’t back out this time, i promise. i’m free in two weeks_

He pressed send before he lost his nerve and fidgeted with his phone waiting for Neil’s response. It was taking too long. He knew Neil was home and awake; he could hear the faint noise from his television through their shared wall.

_if you still want to?_


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's thursday!!! we are slowly but steadily reaching the end of this fic... will they finally meet? guess you'll have to read this chapter to find out!

“I just don’t get it,” Neil huffed, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders. “First he stops talking to me when I tell him about moving here. Then he wants to meet. Then he goes all weird and distant, and now he wants to meet again. I’m starting to get whiplash from the constant back and forth!” 

Matt made a sympathetic noise around the rim of his cup. They were hiding out on the balcony—well, Neil was hiding out; Matt was keeping him company. Dan had invited her friends round for a board game night with booze and things were getting competitive around the kitchen table. Neil hadn’t really wanted to come in the first place, but Dan had given him one of her “you need to get out more” looks and Matt had been bummed about not getting to spend Friday night with his best friend, so Neil had relented. 

“Anyway, we’re meeting at this coffee shop in two weeks. Guess I’ll find out what his deal is then.” 

“I’ll be on standby if you need a swift rescue,” Matt said solemnly. “I can pretend to be your boyfriend and make a scene. Or I can fight him while you run away.” 

“Please don’t,” Neil said with a fond smile. “Last time you fought someone for me you were drunk and the guy turned out to be a door.” 

“That door was looking at you funny,” Matt insisted. 

“Well, you sure showed it who’s boss.” 

“Speaking of assholes who are rude to my BFF,” Matt said, “how are things with your douchey neighbour?” 

Neil paused, sipping at his apple cider and nudging one of the dead potted plants with his foot. 

“Okay, actually,” he admitted. “We called a truce.” 

He thought about all the surreal things that had happened lately—the movie tickets, Minyard falling out of the elevator, unexpectedly bonding over Lucy, and last but not least, baking cookies together and making fun of each other’s cats’ names. Yesterday Neil had even made Minyard laugh with a stupid pun when they’d run into each other in the parking lot. 

“Aw man,” Matt sighed. “And I had _such_ a good prank idea.” 

“Well…” Neil said slowly. “You could tell me anyway? Just in case he tries anything again.” 

Matt perked up. 

“Yeah, good idea. You can never be too prepared, after all.” 

“Alright, boy scout,” Neil grinned. “Or should I say… Boyd scout?” 

“A scout’s duty is to be useful and to help others,” Matt recited promptly, one hand over his heart. “Now, about that prank…” 

* * *

Neil stared at the bright primary colours of the cereal boxes on the shelf and tried to get his sluggish brain to decide which one to buy. It was painfully late at night and he had work tomorrow, but he was out of almost everything and had been putting off his grocery run for over a week now. He’d meant to stop by the store on his way home from work when Matt had called him because his car had broken down and Dan was away for the weekend. Neil had driven across town to pick him up and got stuck in a traffic jam, and Matt had bought him a late dinner to make up for it. By the time Neil was done with his food, his mom had left five frantic voicemails because she’d seen something on the news about a man his age dying in a car crash in Atlanta. It had taken a while to reassure her that no, he was not dead, and yes, he was driving responsibly just like she’d taught him. 

He was about ready to fall asleep where he stood, right there in the cereal aisle. 

“Lucky Charms or Cocoa Puffs, that is the question,” someone said behind him. Neil turned to find Minyard leaning casually on a shopping cart, wearing a slouchy hoodie and a ratty black beanie trimmed with a thin strip of rainbow wool. “Personally I recommend the Cocoa Puffs. No high fructose corn syrup. Though that probably just means they use fructose corn syrup, which isn’t much better.” 

He shrugged and pushed the shopping cart back and forth with his foot. There were purple smudges under his eyes and his hands had splotches of red ink on them, probably from those pens he’d once used to sabotage Neil’s laundry. Most of Neil’s underwear and socks were still pink thanks to that stunt. Matt had said he liked the colour on him, but Neil wasn’t sure if that was actual endorsement or if Matt was just being a Supportive Best Friend. 

“Right,” Neil said belatedly. Some people had no brain to mouth filter when they were tired, whereas Neil felt more like the missing filter was _inside_ his brain, letting any random thought through no matter how useless and irrelevant. He grabbed a cereal box off the shelf and tried to shake off the nagging question of whether Minyard’s underwear and socks were all black like his outer wardrobe or if there was any colour secretly hiding underneath like the rainbow trim on his hat. 

“Raisin Bran?” Minyard asked incredulously. “And to think I was starting to—” 

“Like me?” Neil grinned. “Aw, that’s so cute.” 

“Not _not_ like you,” Minyard conceded sourly. “I thought we agreed that raisins were evil.” 

“In cookies, yes,” Neil said and shook his cereal box. “These are great. And nutritious.” 

“That’s a myth,” Minyard said, tugging on the strings of his hoodie. “Those raisins are all wearing sparkly little disco jackets of sugar. The flakes? _Three_ different sugars. If you want to eat sugar with sugar for your breakfast, you might as well eat a bowl of sugar cubes and be done with it, instead of forcing this abomination down your poor digestive tract.” 

“What am I, a horse? I don’t want to eat sugar cubes, I want cereal,” Neil huffed. “Cocoa Puffs get slimy when you put them in milk. It’s like drinking chunky chocolate milk. Gross.” 

“Better than soggy raisins.” 

Neil grabbed a second box of Raisin Bran and slowly put it inside his basket while holding Minyard’s gaze. He didn’t even particularly care about what kind of cereal he got so long as he had _something_ at home, but watching Minyard’s scowl deepen was worth the additional expense. 

“Enjoy your cocoa-flavoured slime,” he said, discreetly nudging Minyard’s shopping cart on his way past so that Minyard lost his balance and had to make a grab for the shelf behind him. 

* * *

There was a surprise package in Neil’s mailbox. He’d never outgrown his innate suspicion of all packages that he’d inherited from his mother and he poked the package gingerly, wondering if Minyard had broken their truce. When it didn’t explode or make any strange noises he took it out and turned it over in his hands. He didn’t recognize the return address so he used his key to slice open the packing tape, not willing to take it into his apartment until he knew what it was. 

The packing slip inside indicated that it was from Kevin’s Etsy shop. He should have expected this; Matt had been lamenting recently that Neil didn’t have proper winter gear and worrying about Neil’s cold ears and fingers. He’d obviously contacted Kevin, who’d taken up knitting to improve his dexterity after he’d broken his hand in a skiing accident and liked it so much that he now sold his AFTC-themed creations. Inside the box were woollen knitted mittens, a scarf, and a beanie with a pom pom on top, all of them garishly bright orange and covered in fox paw prints. 

As he turned back to close his mailbox, he heard the elevator open behind him. It was completely unsurprisingly that Minyard emerged; their schedules seemed aligned so they kept running into each other in the lobby and hallways. 

Minyard caught sight of the package in Neil’s hands and raised his eyebrows judgmentally. “More orange?” he asked. 

His question only served to spark Neil’s natural pettiness. He shoved the beanie on his head and draped the scarf around his neck. 

“It clashes with your hair,” said Minyard, his expression pained. 

“I love it and I’ll wear it always and you can suck it,” replied Neil. 

Minyard looked like he had something to say in response but he was interrupted by a familiar bloop sound coming from his pocket. His eyes widened and he pulled out his phone, glaring at it as if it had betrayed him. By the time he managed to turn the sound off, four more bloops had sounded. Neil hid a smile; apparently Minyard had a persistent Tumblr friend much like Kevin. 

“You’re on Tumblr?” Neil asked, forgetting for a moment that he was revealing that he was familiar with the notification sound. 

Minyard looked caught before he nodded once reluctantly. 

“Any particular fandom?” 

Again, Minyard hesitated. “Free porn,” he eventually said. 

“Wow,” drawled Neil. “That’s clearly a lie so it must be bad.” He paused and leaned forward, continuing in a conspiratorial whisper, “Are you a Brony?” 

Minyard sputtered. “No,” he half-shouted. 

“So it’s even worse?” said Neil, tapping his lower lip in thought. 

Minyard only glared and moved to exit the building. 

“It’s cold out there, wanna borrow my mitts?” asked Neil, holding them out in offering. 

Minyard looked from the mittens to Neil as if he’d offered him a dead fish. He turned and left without another word. 

* * *

The night before his meeting with Andrew Neil couldn’t settle down. He tried drawing but gave up almost as soon as he’d started, unable to sit still. Then he opened one of Andrew’s fics—one of the older ones; he’d already read it multiple times and it never failed to suck him into the story—but closed it halfway through the first chapter. The television couldn’t hold his interest and he’d promised Matt that he’d stop running at night back in college after he got sideswiped by a car. 

He was so restless that Sir even stopped trying to cuddle on his lap, too insulted by Neil’s inability to stay still. Instead he curled at the far end of the couch, his back turned pointedly to Neil. 

After his third trip to his bedroom to ensure the clothing he had chosen (after consultations with Matt and Allison) to wear the next day was still present and clean, he smelled smoke. It wasn’t uncommon—Minyard smoked on his balcony fairly regularly—but the smell was heavier than it usually was, as if Minyard hadn’t stopped after one cigarette. 

Neil draped a blanket over his shoulders and pushed his way out onto his tiny balcony. “Hey,” he greeted Minyard, as he leaned forward against the railing. 

Minyard side-eyed him but otherwise didn’t react to his presence. Neil inhaled deeply, letting the familiar scent of cigarette smoke calm him. It brought up memories of his childhood, his mother chain smoking to cope with her anxiety and Neil remaining calm because one of them had to be. 

Silence blanketed them, the night still and cold. It was oddly comfortable, the two of them alone in the darkness. 

Minyard shook his carton of cigarettes, offering one to Neil. 

“No,” said Neil, shaking his head. “I don’t smoke; I just like the smell.” 

Minyard shrugged and pocketed the carton. “Must like it a lot to be out in the cold.” 

“It’s—” Neil flapped his hands nervously. “I’m meeting someone tomorrow, someone who I’ve only met online.” 

Minyard nodded in understanding. “Grindr hookup,” he said knowingly. 

Neil laughed in surprise. “No!” he said. “Nothing like that.” 

Minyard gestured for him to continue. 

“We’ve been friends for a while now and I’m pretty sure it’s going somewhere,” Neil admitted. He was already feeling less antsy after having told Minyard this much. He liked the way Minyard took everything in stride without much reaction. Dan and Matt would have started trying to reassure him by now, but Minyard only listened silently. His apathy was soothing. “But I can’t stop thinking that everything’s about to change, and maybe not for the better. What if I’m not what he wants?” 

Minyard scoffed derisively. Neil instantly felt mortified at what he’d let slip to an asshole who’d been his enemy until very recently. He straightened stiffly. “Forget it,” he muttered. 

“He’d have to be brain damaged not to want you,” said Minyard. 

Neil froze, staring at Minyard in confusion. 

“I mean,” continued Minyard, the tips of his ears turning red from the cold, “you are the second best at pranks in this apartment building.” 

“ _Second_ best?” challenged Neil. “There’s no way I’m second.” 

“If you want to rank yourself third behind Mrs O’Malley that’s your prerogative.” 

“Ha,” said Neil. “You’re hilarious. But sadly you’re also the lesser prankster between the two of us.” 

“In what way?” 

“In every way! Take car pranks; I surpassed you on that front by far. I’ll give you the saran wrap—that was good—but you completely failed at breaking whatever you tried to; my mechanic said the car was in better shape than ever.” 

“You lack imagination,” argued Minyard. “You kept going back to the same two ideas—messing with my car and rubber spiders—even though the latter was a failure.” 

“A failure?” echoed Neil. 

“I’m not afraid of spiders.” 

“So you don’t want to know about the huge spider on the wall behind you?” 

Minyard flinched and turned to glare at the lack of spider on the wall before transferring his glare to Neil. “I’m not afraid of spiders,” he repeated, more forcefully. 

“Clearly,” said Neil, raising his hands in surrender. “My mistake.” 

“Yes it was.” 

“Your attempt to infest my apartment with ants was also a dud.” 

Minyard gave him a strange look. “But I successfully stole your pizza.” 

“I made you climb the stairs.” 

“I dyed your clothes pink.” 

“I—” Neil couldn’t continue because he was laughing so hard. “Oh my god, listening to it listed out like this doesn’t make us sound like the most rational adults.” 

“I still won,” said Minyard stubbornly. 

“I think we’ll have to call in a neutral third party to decide,” said Neil. He took a deep breath. “You know, I actually feel better now.” 

“There’s no point in worrying,” said Minyard. “Tomorrow’s going to happen no matter how long you spend being anxious about it beforehand.” 

Neil took slight comfort in how certain his smoke-rough voice sounded, not that he was about to admit it. “That’s incredibly useless advice.” 

Minyard stubbed out his cigarette. “I’m going inside before I freeze solid.” 

“Yeah, good idea.” Neil flicked Minyard a salute before he turned back to his door. 

“Josten—Neil,” said Minyard tentatively. “I hope tomorrow turns out the way you want and that your guy doesn’t disappoint.” 

“Thanks Min—” Neil cut himself off and shook his head ruefully. “Aaron. See you around.” 

Minyard blinked once, mumbled, “Fucking figures,” and retreated back into his apartment. 

Neil wondered what he’d said to garner that reaction before shrugging it off and heading back inside. All he had to do now was somehow manage to shut his brain off long enough to fall asleep. He couldn’t wait for tomorrow to be over, to finally _know_ instead of wondering. One way or another he’d finally get answers. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've been taking turns posting chapters and this is my (gluupor) last week, so I'd just like to take the opportunity to say THANK YOU to everyone who has been leaving comments and kudos and engaging with this story. You guys make me laugh and it's because of you that I'm still active in this fandom. Also, thanks to Anna who was the one who got the ball rolling on this collab and who was such a joy to work with. I'm so glad I got to know you <3

Due to Neil’s nine-to-five job, Andrew had suggested meeting up on a Saturday for a late breakfast, at a fairly quiet yet still public enough coffee shop called Honeydew. It was tucked away in a side street and served bubble tea year-round in a variety of flavors, even seasonal ones like pumpkin spice and gingerbread. Bubble tea was Renee’s one vice and Andrew made a point of treating her to it every once in a while, but it wasn’t his most frequented café in town, so if things went pear-shaped he at least wouldn’t have to go cold turkey on his favourite beverages.

Last night’s conversation on the balcony had played on a loop in Andrew’s brain for hours afterwards. Neil was nervous about meeting him—that much he’d deduced by himself. But that he was nervous about _Andrew_ not wanting _him_ , that had been news to Andrew. Add to that the revelation that Neil thought he was Aaron… well, Andrew’s restless mind had taken a while to churn that over.

With an annoyed huff, Andrew fished his phone out of his pocket for the third time and stared at the dark screen. He’d left the house early so he wouldn’t run into Neil on the way here, but maybe he’d been a little over-eager. He still had two hours until their agreed time and he’d already drunk enough bubble tea that his stomach was starting to curdle.

Fuck it.

He pulled up Aaron’s number and hit call. Aaron wasn’t the earliest of risers, but he should at least be coherent by now, and Andrew was sick of their continued silence since their birthday. If he got this over with now, at least there would be one less thing hanging over his head.

“What,” Aaron greeted him, awake but grumpily so, as predicted.

“Good morning to you too,” Andrew said dryly. “Can we talk?”

There was some shuffling on the other end, then the sound of a coffee machine gurgling to life.

“Fine,” Aaron finally relented. “Talk.”

Apologies were stupid. As usual, Andrew’s throat closed up around the words. He spent some time trying to smush a leftover boba with his straw, but it kept slipping away.

“I’m meeting Neil,” he finally blurted out. “Today. For real.”

“Okay,” Aaron said slowly.

“I was avoiding you because,” Andrew took a deep breath, then resorted to a strategy they’d developed back when they were teenagers and Stephanie and Renee had made them apologise to each other all the time: saying the words very quickly to save themselves a few seconds of extra awkwardness. “BecausebirthdaysareshitandalsoNeilturnedouttobemyhorribleneighbourandIwashavingacrisisandyouwerebeinganass. There. I said it. Done.”

“Pretty sure mom would call you out for calling me an ass,” Aaron huffed, amused. “But okay, we don’t have time to unpack all that. What was that about Neil being your horrible neighbour?”

“Ugh,” Andrew said, letting his head thunk against the table and contemplating getting another tea just for something to _do_.

“No, I wanna hear this,” Aaron gloated. “Every awful detail of it. Spill, or I’ll tell Renee it was you who shrunk her Hufflepuff sweater in the wash.”

“She’s a Slytherin, anyway,” Andrew muttered sullenly and glanced at the clock. One hour and thirty-seven minutes left. “Fine. I’m not taking back the part about you being an ass, though.”

“Didn’t expect you to,” Aaron replied. “Now spill.”

Aaron was disproportionately amused by what Andrew told him, especially when he got to the part where Neil thought they were the same person.

“That certainly explains our conversation in your parking lot,” said Aaron thoughtfully.

“Did you happen to mention the existence of your girlfriend during that conversation?”

Andrew could practically hear the shrug.

“I might have, why?”

“Because he thought I was dating Renee.”

Aaron snorted. “Ew.”

“What else did you say to him? He showed up at my door that night to tell me off.”

“Uh, nothing,” said Aaron, his tone suddenly evasive.

“Do I have to tell Nicky your real opinion about the scarf he crocheted for you?”

“So ugly,” complained Aaron. “Fine. I might have told the love of your life that no one could ever want him.”

Coupled with what Andrew now knew about the way Neil’s insecurities ran, it made sense how much the comment had clearly nettled him. “He’s not the love of my life,” Andrew replied automatically.

“Sure he’s not.”

“After today he might move out of his apartment and I’ll never see him again.”

“That sounds likely. Aren’t you tired of—”

“Shhhhh,” Andrew hissed, cutting Aaron off when he caught a glimpse of hideous orange through Honeydew’s large front window. Neil had said that he’d wear the scarf that Kevin had knitted him so Andrew could recognize him and he’d paired it with the mittens and beanie he’d been wearing everywhere since Andrew had insulted them.

Andrew ducked his head.

“What’s happening?” asked Aaron.

“He’s here,” said Andrew in a whisper. “He’s early.”

“How early?”

Andrew checked the time. “Forty-two minutes. I’ve seen him leaving for work; he’s never early!”

“Obviously he’s excited to meet you.”

“Oh, shit, gotta go,” said Andrew, hanging up before Aaron could say anything more. Neil wasn’t alone. Matt and the woman he’d once seen outside of Neil’s apartment were with him, obviously scoping him out if the way they were peering through the window was any indication. He removed his own identifying scarf (a rainbow one he’d stolen from Nicky) and stuffed it in his coat pocket before doing the only thing he could: scuttling off to hide in the bathroom.

So this wasn’t ideal. He couldn’t let Matt see him, he’d probably convince Neil to leave and never speak with him again. He had to wait until Neil was alone; that was the only way this might not backfire completely.

He waited in the bathroom, definitely not giving himself a pep talk in the mirror and ignoring all the strange looks he got from the other patrons. After five minutes he peered out the door and sighed in relief to see Neil was alone and had taken a seat to watch the door apprehensively.

Andrew returned to his abandoned table to collect his coat and the empty bubble tea cup. He approached Neil’s table and, taking a deep breath, took a seat across from him.

“Neil,” he said in greeting.

“Aaron,” said Neil flatly, his eyes darting nervously to the front of the diner. “Not that I’m not thrilled to see you, but this isn’t actually the best time.”

“I have to say one thing and then I’ll go if you still want me to.”

“Fine, what is it?” asked Neil, turning to look at him properly.

“My name isn’t Aaron,” said Andrew.

Neil obviously didn’t understand, his face completely confused. “What?”

“I have a twin brother,” explained Andrew. “We’re completely identical. His name is Aaron.”

“Oh,” said Neil, still looking lost. “What’s your name then?”

Andrew steeled himself and draped the rainbow scarf around his neck. “I’m Andrew.”

Neil’s eyes widened in recognition. His mouth dropped open and he tried to speak. All he achieved was making several vowel sounds before he gave up. Andrew was pretty sure he’d broken him. All he was doing was staring dumbfoundedly.

Neil’s voice was hoarse when he finally put a sentence together. “You’re such an asshole,” he whispered.

“Yes,” agreed Andrew, his heart in his throat.

“Or, wait, is Aaron the asshole who was pranking me?”

Andrew very reluctantly admitted, “Aaron is an asshole, but it was me pranking you.”

“You’re my neighbour.” Neil seemed to be having trouble grasping the concept.

“I’m your neighbour.”

“What are the odds of this happening?”

“You’re the math nerd,” Andrew pointed out. “You figure it out.”

“You’re Andrew,” said Neil instead.

Andrew waited patiently for the information to sink in and for Neil to stop gaping.

Neil shook his head in disbelief. “You’re _my_ asshole.”

“Maybe rephrase that?”

“Fuck you,” said Neil, but the response sounded rote and automatic and held no heat. “I can’t believe that out of all the apartments in Atlanta, I moved into the one _right next_ to yours.”

“It’s a little unbelievable.”

“I can’t help but notice that you’re not surprised,” said Neil. “You already knew?”

Andrew nodded. “Since the confetti.”

“That explains why you went all squirrelly afterwards.”

“Out of the two of us, I believe you’re the squirrel.”

Neil’s eyes widened again at the reminder of his Tumblr account. “Fuck,” he said under his breath. “You’re really _Andrew_.” His eyes flitted over Andrew’s face the same way that Andrew’s had when he’d realized Neil’s true identity; taking in the familiar features and mentally reassigning them. “Hi,” he breathed out.

Andrew smiled tentatively. “Hi,” he replied.

They sat in silence for a long moment. Andrew’s heart nearly stopped in his chest when Neil suddenly got up, convinced he’d blown it and Neil was going to leave.

“I’m gonna get something to drink,” Neil said instead, pulling out his wallet and dropping it twice with shaking hands. Andrew abruptly felt uncomfortably warm. Neil still wanted to give this a try. He’d just been completely blindsided by Andrew’s revelation, and yet here he was, studying the different options on the menu like his life depended on what kind of tea he ordered. In the end he went for lychee and green apple, paid and walked back to their table, warily inspecting his drink.

“What do I do with the bubbles?” he asked. “Do I drink them?”

“Yeah,” Andrew said. “That’s why the straw is so thick.”

“Bet you say that to all the boys,” Neil blurted out, then looked mortified. “Forget I said that. How long have you been here?”

He gestured at Andrew’s empty cup.

“A while,” Andrew admitted, then added defensively, “You were early too.”

Another silence coiled between them, loaded like a spring. Andrew wiped his hands on his jeans and watched as Neil took his first tentative sip of the tea and pulled a face.

“Too sweet?” Andrew guessed.

“Yeah,” Neil said, but immediately took another sip. “So…”

“Yes?”

“So you’re really… I mean. Lucy? Is she really your favourite character? You always seemed to kind of hate her.”

“I do,” Andrew said reluctantly. He had to give Neil _something_ , though. “She’s… she hits too close to home.”

“Ah,” Neil said, understanding coming into his eyes. “Yeah, I get that I guess.”

He thought for a moment, then his eyes narrowed and he cocked his head to the side.

“That day, when we talked about AFTC in the hall,” he said slowly. “You already knew who I was. Did you… was that on purpose?”

Andrew briefly considered denying everything, but opted to tell the truth after all. He might as well come clean about it all now and avoid further complications later. If there was a later.

“I didn’t want you to hate me on sight when we met,” he muttered, picking at the rim of his cup.

“So all the weird stuff that happened after the confetti prank was you trying to get me to like you?” Neil asked incredulously.

“Mhm.”

“You bought me flowers,” Neil said, completely baffled. “And… wait. You told me you have a girlfriend.”

“Aaron,” Andrew said, making a face. “I still don’t know how he managed to get one considering he has the personality of unsweetened popcorn and about as much charm as the colour beige, but…”

Neil chuckled and cautiously sucked one of the boba pearls up through his straw.

“These are weird,” was his verdict before slurping up a few more. “This whole situation is weird. I feel like I’m dreaming. Were you serious, about what you said last night?”

“What do you mean?” Andrew asked, knowing exactly what Neil meant. Neil shifted in his chair, looking flustered, and swirled his straw aggressively through the boba in his cup.

“About wanting me.”

“Yes,” Andrew said, simply and honestly.

Neil was blushing. It wasn’t just visible on his cheeks this time; Andrew could also see that the tips of Neil’s ears were bright red where they peeked out between mussed curls. He had the sudden urge to kiss them and gripped the tabletop to anchor himself and push that thought back where it belonged.

“I can’t believe you knew all this time and didn’t tell me,” Neil muttered. “I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out.”

“Guess we should have gone to Kevin’s stupid fandom meet-up last spring,” Andrew said. “Then we could have avoided this whole mess.”

“We’re both idiots,” Neil groaned, burying his face in his hands and laughing. “We’re like a cheesy, tropey fanfic cliché, I’m so mad. Let’s never tell any of our online friends.”

“Your online friends,” Andrew corrected. “Kevin is the only person I interact with and that’s purely because he will not stop bugging me.”

“You could always block him,” Neil suggested. “In fact, I’ve blocked him several times in the past when he was getting too irritating. It’s great.”

“Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Sometimes the most effective solutions are the least obvious ones.”

And just like that, it was suddenly easy. They talked about fandom and Kevin, veered off on a tangent about a podcast they both liked, jokingly came up with two original characters based on their cats and then not-so-jokingly planned a fanfic together featuring Simon McCatterson, a rich, spoiled Trojans goalkeeper, and Fiona King, a tough, aloof Ravens striker. Andrew suggested going to the German Christmas market at Centennial Olympic Park for lunch, where they stuffed themselves with food and hot chocolate and bought Christmas presents for their friends. Before they knew it, evening was starting to creep up on them, and Andrew felt like he’d known Neil for years.

Which, in a way, he had.

“Let’s go home?” Neil said, shivering as a sharp gust of wind whipped past them. “I think I’ve had enough of the crowds.”

Going home together was a strange new sort of thrill. They kept talking right up until they reached their separate doors, and Andrew almost didn’t want to say goodbye, even though he definitely needed to recharge his social batteries.

“So,” Neil said, equally reluctant to unlock his door.

“So,” Andrew echoed.

“I had fun,” Neil pushed on bravely. “I think I’ll need some time to really wrap my head around it. But. I want to.”

Andrew felt warm again and nodded. It was perfectly reasonable that Neil would need time. Andrew could give him that. They could take things slow, maybe spend more time together once Neil felt comfortable with it—

“I want to kiss you,” tumbled out of Andrew’s mouth before he could stop it.

For the second time that day, Neil looked as if he’d had the rug pulled out from under him.

“I… oh,” he said, self-consciously touching the side of his face. “Really?”

Andrew gently pulled his hand away from covering his scar. He considered backtracking but so far being honest had worked in his favour today. “I do,” he admitted. “But I know it’s probably too soon for you.”

“Yes.”

Andrew hesitated. “Yes, it’s too soon for you?”

“No,” replied Neil, flustered, “I meant, yes, I want you to kiss me.”

“It’s okay if it’s too soon, we just met today.”

“You’re Andrew.” Neil rotated the hand that Andrew was still holding and laced their fingers together, rubbing his thumb along Andrew’s knuckles. “I feel as if I’ve known you forever.”

Now Andrew was the speechless one. His hand felt like it was made up of raw nerve endings that were sparking sensation along his arm, radiating from where Neil was touching him. He was afraid he might vibrate out of his skin.

He took a step closer to Neil, running his free hand up the side of Neil’s neck and into his hair, causing Neil to shiver.

“Yes?” he double-checked when he was a breath away.

“Yes,” Neil exhaled.

Andrew tilted Neil’s head down and stretched up to press their lips together. From all the ridiculous stories he’d edited he expected something explosive, like fireworks. What he felt was a sense of rightness, of something snapping into place inside of him. Kissing Neil felt right and like something he’d been missing out on for a long time.

Neil’s eyes remained closed for several moments after Andrew pulled back before he hummed and licked his lips. When he opened his eyes, his pupils were dilated and he was looking at Andrew with an expression that made Andrew’s stomach squirm. They stayed like that, gazing at each other in a sappy way that would have made Andrew embarrassed if he wasn’t so happy.

They were torn from their dopey staring by the elevator doors opening and Mrs O’Malley emerging.

“Oh!” she said in surprise when she caught sight of them. “Did you boys finally work everything out?”

Neil’s stunned expression mirrored how Andrew felt.

“The girls in my book club will be so happy! They’ve been hanging on every word I’ve told them about your absurd courtship,” she continued blithely. She tapped the side of her nose. “I’ll leave you two be.”

“Oh my god,” muttered Neil as Andrew buried his face against his neck in mortification.

“Oh,” said Mrs O’Malley, turning back to them once she got her door open. “Don’t worry about being too loud,” as she tugged her earlobe. “I take out my hearing aids at 7pm sharp.” She winked and disappeared into her apartment.


	11. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well! Here we are, folks. The final instalment of this project. Moonix here - I have the honour of posting this last chapter and I also wanna say thank you to everyone who's kept up with this, left kudos and comments, reblogged, bookmarked or recced this fic - we appreciate you all and it's been so much fun getting to see your reactions and experiencing this fic vicariously through you all over again. Maybe, possibly, gluupor and I will one day team up again for another fic - I for one sure hope so, because it's been a blast!

**EPILOGUE**

Neil was up with the sun, too restless and antsy to stay in bed any longer. He headed out for a run, careful to be quiet so as to not wake Andrew who was actually properly asleep for once. 

Running helped clear his nerves about the meet-up later today. It was silly to be so anxious about it; Dan and Matt were going to be there, as was Andrew, of course. 

When he got back to the apartment, both Sir and King were acting incredibly pushy about their breakfast, insisting that neither of them had ever been fed in their entire lives and that they were starving to death. Neil rolled his eyes at their dramatics, put out their food bowls, and watched in amusement as King monopolized both bowls while Sir sat back and watched her adoringly, waiting for her to finish. 

He and Andrew had slowly begun acclimatizing their cats to each other months before Neil moved in. Sir had been instantly fascinated and smitten with King, following her around and trying to cuddle with her. King was less enthused, hissing and swatting every time Sir came a little too close for her liking. Sir was not deterred and his efforts eventually wore King down. She now tolerated his presence, letting him sleep next to her and wrapping her paw around his neck from time to time to lick his head. 

Neil took a quick shower, stopping in the bedroom to let Andrew know it was time to wake up. Andrew was groggily moving by the time Neil returned to dress, mumbling something derogatory about junkies and the morning. Neil cooed condescendingly at him, ducked the pillow that was thrown, and went to make coffee. 

Andrew shuffled out of their room several minutes later, wearing his bathrobe and slippers. He was sporting truly spectacular bedhead; it appeared as if there was actually a hedgehog sitting on his head. Neil hid his smile in his coffee mug and felt like his heart might burst with affection. 

Andrew poured himself a cup of coffee, added an ungodly amount of sugar to it, then took a sip. And sputtered. He glared between his coffee and the sugar bowl (or, salt bowl, Neil guessed it actually was now, thanks to his ministrations) and then finally at Neil. 

“Happy anniversary,” said Neil brightly, taking a sip of his own unsweetened coffee. 

Andrew squinted, his brain obviously working slowly. “It’s not our anniversary.” 

“Three years ago this week was the first time I read one of your fics,” said Neil. 

Andrew only gave him a flat look in response. “You know,” he said thoughtfully, absent-mindedly taking another sip of his coffee before retching and giving it a look of pure betrayal. He looked so sleepily confused that Neil took pity on him, relieving him of the salt-coffee and throwing it down the sink before opening the microwave to retrieve the second, properly-sweetened coffee he’d prepared ahead of time. 

Andrew sipped it suspiciously before nodding in approval and continuing, “It occurs to me that I definitely won our prank war.” 

“How so?” 

“My goal was for you to move out of your apartment.” He swept his hand around to indicate the room, where Neil’s things were all mixed in and nestled alongside Andrew’s belongings. “You moved.” 

Neil snorted. “I highly doubt your goal was for me to move out of my apartment and _into yours_.” 

“Semantics.” 

They lapsed into silence, the kind that often fell between them, comfortable and easy. 

“What time are we meeting your friends?” Andrew broke the quiet to ask. 

“Nine,” replied Neil. They were meeting Dan and Matt at a diner before heading to Nashville for Kevin’s latest fandom meet-up. Matt had wanted them all to drive up together, but his six and a half foot frame wouldn’t fit nicely into the back of Andrew’s sports car. Andrew and Neil could easily fit into the back of Matt’s SUV but Andrew didn’t like being a passenger, especially on long trips. Neil knew he could have convinced Andrew to go with Matt if he asked (and offered an acceptable bribe) but Andrew was already going to a social event for him and he didn’t want to force him even farther out of his comfort zone. 

“Plenty of time,” said Andrew, tugging Neil into a sleepy kiss, then another. By the time they got in the car, they were running late and Andrew had changed into a turtleneck sweater to hide the little hickey that had mysteriously appeared on the side of his neck. 

Really, it wasn’t Neil’s fault that Andrew’s pale skin bruised so easily. 

“What kept you guys?” Matt greeted them cheerfully, already halfway through an ample breakfast. 

“Andrew took forever to get ready,” Neil said at the same time as Andrew deadpanned, “Neil killed someone and we had to hide the body.” 

Matt glanced between them and finally settled on Neil, feigning betrayal. 

“And you didn’t call me? I thought I was your best friend.” 

Dan cleared her throat and stole a piece of waffle from Matt’s plate. 

“I believe you owe me twenty bucks, Mr Wilds.” 

“Of course, babe,” Matt hummed, kissing her cheek. “I’m so lucky. My wife is the smartest woman in the world.” 

“What did you two bet on now?” Neil asked, exasperated. 

“Whether or not you were late because you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. Matt thought your car had broken down,” Dan said smugly. “As if Andrew would go anywhere in that deathtrap of yours.” 

“He did once,” Neil admitted, ignoring the rest of that statement. “But I had to bribe him with sushi.” 

“Never again,” Andrew swore, looking peaky. The edge of the hickey was visible just above the collar of his shirt and Neil stifled the urge to reach out and touch it. Whatever Dan thought, he and Andrew hadn’t actually slept together yet. Maybe they never would. But Neil still had a pretty good idea of what to do to make Andrew fall apart and turn to putty in his hands. Being able and permitted to know and do those things was a greater rush than any orgasm, in his opinion. 

“So, are you excited about the meet-up?” Matt asked. The waitress came and brought Neil and Andrew’s breakfasts and an espresso for Matt, who daintily pursed his lips to sip at the comically small cup. 

“Can’t you tell?” Andrew grunted, pointing at himself. “This is my excited face.” 

“I’m excited for the snack buffet Allison promised,” Neil joked, still feeling a little uneasy at the prospect of meeting so many new people at once. Kevin had assured him it was just going to be a small, lowkey affair, but as usual, things had spiralled a little out of control. Almost all of Neil’s online friends had signed up, including Allison, who’d pulled some strings and booked them a couple of conference rooms at a fancy hotel. Kevin, whom Neil and Andrew had at least met in person a few times now, had spent the last few days frantically setting everything up and planning activities. He would never forgive them if they pulled out at the last minute. 

“The snack buffet is definitely the main reason I’m going,” Dan said, massaging her round belly. The baby wasn’t due for another three months, but Neil was already terrified—Dan and Matt had appointed him the godfather, and Neil was doubtful he’d be able to live up to the title. 

“I’m looking forward to my armwrestling re-match with Thea,” Matt grinned. “I’ve been going to the gym every day for the last month. I’m not taking any chances this time.” 

He flexed his biceps and Dan laughed, swatting loosely at him. 

“It’s cute that you think you can beat her. She’s going to destroy you.” 

Andrew, whose mouth was full of maple bacon and eggs, pointed at her like he agreed with her. Neil still couldn’t believe how easy it had been to introduce Andrew to Matt and Dan. There’d been a little bit of awkwardness at the beginning, but once they’d made it through that first dinner, Dan and Andrew had bonded over whisky and Andrew had managed to impress Matt with art history knowledge that he definitely had not possessed until the night before. Neil had felt hysterically like his boyfriend was meeting his parents, and had spent the entire evening in a constant bubble of badly contained hysterical amusement that finally burst when Matt made a terrible dad joke over dessert. 

It had been much more nerve wracking when he’d met Andrew’s family, although technically he was already unwittingly acquainted with Aaron. He was still an asshole, although that didn’t bother Neil; he spoke asshole fluently. The two of them had fallen into a friendly rivalry where they traded more and more outlandish insults which Neil quite enjoyed, especially now that he no longer got to think up pranks to pull on his neighbour. Nicky had accepted Neil with open arms, happy that Andrew was happy; Renee had given him a single, thorough once-over and then smiled sweetly, making Neil feel as if he’d passed some sort of test. 

They finished their breakfast quickly and Andrew got himself a cup of coffee for the road before they all filed into their respective cars and Neil put on Andrew’s latest Lucy playlist. Andrew gave him a dirty look for it—he still didn’t like to admit to his fondness for her, and had only told Neil about the playlists in a moment of weakness. Neil had made it his duty to play them wherever and whenever he could get away with it. 

The trip to Nashville took a little under four hours. Once Andrew got on the Interstate, he reached for Neil’s hand. Neil gratefully held onto him, playing with his fingers while watching the scenery zoom past. 

“Nervous?” asked Andrew as they drew closer to the city. 

“Mhm,” said Neil. “Although there won’t be any big surprises. I checked out all our friends’ selfies to make sure they aren’t secretly my boss or the barista at the tea shop or anyone else I already know.” 

“That’s very unlikely,” said Andrew. “Stuff like that never happens in real life.” 

“Ha,” said Neil dryly. 

Andrew twisted their joined hands up to kiss Neil’s knuckles. 

“Do we need a safe word?” asked Neil. 

Andrew raised an eyebrow. “For…?” 

“If everything gets too overwhelming or Kevin is too overbearing and one of us needs the other to distract him or something.” 

“I assume simply walking away will work.” 

“You’ve met Kevin; you know that’s not true.” 

“Luckily we probably won’t be his focus since he’s already met us and he’s busy with organizing everything,” said Andrew. “And if he bothers you too much I’ll kick him in the shins so you can make a getaway.” 

“My hero,” said Neil, batting his eyelashes. 

It was amazing what changes had occurred in the last year and a half, since the last meet-up he’d been too afraid to attend. He was no longer alone and living far away from everyone he cared about; he was settled and happy in his life. And Andrew was no longer a name on a computer screen and a perfect fantasy; he was a living, breathing person with both virtues and faults who had Neil’s back no matter what. Neil hadn’t even known what he’d been missing but now that he had Andrew in his life, he was never going to let go. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you like our stuff, you can find us on Tumblr ([gluupor](https://gluupor.tumblr.com/) and [moonix/annawrites](https://annawrites.tumblr.com/)), subscribe to us/this fic on AO3, or just leave a nice keysmash in the comments below :)


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